


A Language We Both Understand

by RileyHale



Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyHale/pseuds/RileyHale
Summary: So...take "Helga vs Big Patty" as your starting point. Tweak it just enough to alter the course of the story. Let it all stew for a few chapters and see what develops.
Relationships: Helga Pataki/Arnold Shortman
Comments: 24
Kudos: 25





	1. Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

"I'm eating," repeated Patty.

Patty was always soft-spoken, perhaps in fitting with the monolithic figure she cut within all of P.S. 118. She spoke quietly, yet her voice conveyed an easy, effortless menace, as well as a promise that whosoever would provoke her, would come off second best.

Someone had just done the former and was now in line for the latter. And now someone else was partway into appealing that she show mercy.

"Look, Patty," Arnold pressed on, aware that he was indeed interrupting her lunch. "Helga apologized to you, right? So why do you still have to beat her up?"

Patty said nothing as she kept masticating. She was deliberately slow in chewing and swallowing that last bite of her sandwich. She was equally slow and deliberate in placing the rest of her sandwich back in its paper bag before eyeing Arnold with all her attention.

The slow actions, the sustained stare…all to intimidate Arnold, discourage him. Make him think twice before continuing with his say. But Arnold held firm: Patty could see he wasn't intimidated. At least, not as much as the rest. Usually, anyone in his position would have been a few shades paler, would have lost the ability to enunciate, and would have been staring at her through pinpricks for eyes. Arnold exhibited none of those characteristics, yet neither was he displaying any aggression toward her. She found it oddly…disarming.

Enough at least to indulge him. And indulging him meant getting straight to the point: "What's it to you anyway if I pound her or not?"

Patty watched him flinch at her question before recovering almost immediately. "Look," he began, "I know Helga's said a lot of mean things about you, but I don't think she meant them."

"You didn't answer my question," Patty responded, still calmly.

"Excuse me?"

_Aha! He wavered! He's on the backfoot!_

"You worry about me beating her up for some shit she said about me. What about the vile crap she says to you? The pranks she pulls on you. Don't think I haven't noticed. Hell, the whole school can see she hates your guts! Didn't she even egg Harold on to kill you that time?"

He flinched again, but this time there was no recovery. No answer to that statement, no defence. Her cue to assert her advantage further.

"You surprise me, Arnold. I'd have thought you of all people would want to see Helga bite off more than she can chew and then have to pay for it."

"Well yes. I MEAN… _NO!_ I MEAN… _not this way!_ "

Mm, there was strong emotion in his answer, rendering him incoherent. _Almost as if…_

But once again he'd regained his composure and was able to put together a complete sentence. "Isn't there another way to settle this thing between you two?"

OK, now he was becoming tiresome. Even so, he'd never been less than respectful with her. And even for Patty Smith, respect far outweighed fear. So instead of biting Arnold's head off, she decided to put the outcome in his hands.

"Tell you what, Arnold. I meet Helga at 3:15 in the sports hall. If you figure out that other way, feel free to stop me any time you want. Even during the beating."

Not a suggestion, not a proposal: a challenge. She was daring him. It would be interesting to see how he would respond.

* * *

_Well Helga Ol' Girl, you've really gone and done it this time._

And as deserved as Helga Pataki's self-castigation felt, it was ultimately futile. It was 15:13 and she had begun her walk to the sports hall where her fate awaited her. All because she chose to run her damn mouth about Big Patty. No real surprise there: she was Helga Pataki and for her, mouthing off was as easy as breathing. Ninety-nine percent of the time she had Old Betsy to back her up, which would be more than enough. But now she was up against Big Patty, the remaining one percent.

_Fatty Patty!_

_Ugly Patty!_

_Stupid Patty!_

Names Helga had called her…stupidly within earshot. She did apologize to Patty, largely under duress from Arnold. The problem wasn't that Patty hadn't accepted her (no doubt) half-assed attempt at an apology – she did. The problem was the timing: Patty had already called her out in front of a crowd of witnesses. The time and place had been confirmed, and there was no backing out and denying the masses the blood for which they were baying.

Now was the time of reckoning as she walked down the lonely school passage, through the exit, and into the playground where they were waiting. Patty and the spectators. Patty, waiting patiently. The rest, munching on popcorn in anticipation of the entertainment.

And Arnold. The footballhead. Her beloved footballhead. His concerned expression stood out from the rest of the congregation. He was there out of care and concern. _Hmph!_ What good would his care and concern do when he couldn't even act upon them?

_Stupid footballhead! Guess you can't save everyone now, can you?_

It was all Helga could do to remain as stoic as possible as she approached Patty. Those animals in the peanut gallery would not get the satisfaction of seeing her frightened. And a final flourish of bravado when she reached Patty: "OK Patty, I'm here. Do your worst!"

The spectators hissed and winced at Helga's challenge. Patty seemed unaffected by Helga's audacious move. She looked up from Helga to focus on the gathered masses. "Leave," she simply said.

The spectators moaned at the instruction. "But Patty!" Sid objected on everyone's behalf. "We came to see a show!"

Patty's glare intensified and all before her were silenced. "Closed session," said Patty in a slightly different, more chilling variation of her calm voice. "You'll see the outcome tomorrow."

That did the trick. The crowd dispersed, fearing that what Patty was about to do to Helga would be best without the presence of witnesses and accessories. All except for Arnold, who remained where he stood in the face of several departees questioning his sanity for disobeying Big Patty. Their questions didn't last for long as one by one they decided that their own self-preservation trumped their concern over Arnold's poor decision-making.

Patty waited until only she, Helga, and Arnold remained. The following few seconds passed in uncomfortable silence as none of the three knew what to say.

"And exactly what are you still doing here, Arnoldo?" asked Helga, still maintaining her bravado. "I don't suppose you have some brilliant, earth-shattering intervention in mind."

"Yeah, have you found that better way yet?" added Patty, her voice nowhere as mocking as Helga's.

Helga was profoundly surprised at that reveal. _Did my beloved really speak to Patty beforehand? Did he plead for my life to be spared?_ She felt her hopes rise ever so greatly. What a day to be alive! To know that her dearest, most precious footballhead was willing to stand up for her in the face of such great adversity!

"Patty, this is wrong!" Arnold softly pleaded. "She already apologized to you and you accepted. Please, just do the right thing."

Patty simply shook her head at that statement, "Sorry Arnold, but if that's the best you got…"

Helga was instantly deflated. She slumped her head forward, the better to feel a tsunami of dejection wash over her. Arnold: her great hope, her great disappointment. _What a moron. What a weak-kneed, lily-livered scam artist!_

She then felt herself being shoved by Patty all the way to the nearby hall.

"Patty, _please!_ " Arnold redoubled his cry for civility with more vehemence. "It doesn't have to come to this!"

Patty was past the point of hearing him, let alone responding. His words did fall on Helga's ears though, for all the good that it would do. In fact, what it did was cause her to spit more venom his way.

" _Ha!_ Some help you were, Bucko!" she sneered loudly at him as if to distract herself from the imminent beating. "Why did you even bother staying behind? So pathetic, so useless! You might as well have said nothing at all! Why don't you just turn tail and walk away like all the others? It's not like you're any better than any of them! Good ol' Arnold! Always helpful except when it matters! I mean, this is Patty. _Dumb_ Patty, who only knows how to solve problems with her fists!"

"Helga, _no!_ " Arnold loudly admonished her foolishness while Patty paused at Helga's newly surfaced chutzpah.

Before he could continue, however: "Oh _shut up_ , you useless peacenik! As if she's not already going to beat the tar out of me!" Helga then focussed her attention on Patty, whom she now addressed with a contemptuous smile: "Isn't that right, _Patty_? If I know I'm dead anyway, what's to fear?"

She would have continued with her invective had Patty not picked her up and thrown her, hard, into the building, followed her inside, and closed the door.

**xxXXXxx**

Helga quickly found her feet and stood up to Patty who had closed the door and was now bearing down on her with what looked like first-degree intent. Patty was in no hurry; after all, this was part of her game, or so Helga had heard. To watch the quarry realize that there was no escape, to watch them as they became more and more desperate.

Helga stood steely-eyed, determined not to let Patty have that satisfaction. She remained that way, right up until the moment Patty's right fist came out of nowhere to connect true against her nose. Her knees buckled, her vision became a momentary shade of black. And before she was aware of anything more, she was on her seat, on the floor with Patty lording it over her.

She had time to remember a pearl of wisdom she'd heard from some or other cartoon some time ago as the bigger girl grabbed her by her dress's collar and yanked her up off her feet.

_Some days it don't pay to get out of bed!_


	2. Incentive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: Arnold has failed to prevent Helga vs Big Patty, and now Helga is left to her fate.

Helga Geraldine Pataki's day had worsened progressively since Patty's first punch floored her. The bigger adversary had then followed up by lifting her off of her feet to deliver two short uppercuts to her gut. The first punch merely expelled all the air from the Pataki girl's lungs. The second one left her crumpled on the floor, gagging to heave those lungs out on the wooden surface, sputtering out a concoction of bile and spit. But Patty wasn't yet done, not by a long margin. Again she lifted up the girl in the pink dress, this time to swing her a full 360 and fling her spine first, hard against the nearest wall. The impact was harder than anything she'd ever felt before, doing her efforts to catch her breath no good at all. Then somewhat mercifully, as Helga slumped back down to the floor where she internally debated the virtues of an eight-count versus a ten-count, a respite.

"Come on, Joke Lady! Where's your mouth now?" Patty was now goading. She then added: "Pathetic! Even Mary put up a better fight than this!"

Helga didn't respond, not verbally anyway. She simply rose unsteadily back to her feet with supreme effort: she'd chosen the eight-count. She stared back at Patty with what she hoped was defiance in her eyes. And not much else to back it up.

"Think that thousand-yard stare's going to scare me?" Patty goaded some more. "Oh, _I_ see!" she followed up more to humor the smaller girl than to acknowledge her fighting spirit. "You want to come at me, don't you?"

With that, she widened her stance and stood with her arms by her side to present herself as an open target. "Come on. Take your best shot."

Helga struggled. She struggled to find her feet and her bearings.

"That's it! You can do it!" teased Patty.

_If only I hadn't run my damn mouth_ , Helga self-chastised again, forcing herself into action, trying to ignore her better judgment.

"Come on, Funny Lady! Come at me or this won't be the last time we tango!" warned Patty this time. And on the strength of the recent physical evidence, she would keep her word.

An invitation. One to be heeded, not ignored. One that Helga did heed as she sprinted toward Patty in headlong desperation. She came in hard with a shoulder charge to the bigger girl's gut or thereabouts. The impact was hard, very hard, almost hard enough to stagger Patty.

_Almost._

Helga noted the barely budged Patty. She looked up and noted the smirking Patty looking down at her. She stepped back slowly from the still-smirking Patty, only to be sent twirling midair from an almost effortless right backfist from her adversary that connected flush on her left cheek.

Helga Pataki was down again, having hit the ground as hard as before, this time on her ribs. She was now hard-pressed to name any part of her that didn't hurt like hell. As much as she wanted to rise back to her feet just to stick it to Patty, she couldn't. Her body was no longer hers to control. Not that it mattered anymore.

"See, Pataki?" Patty addressed her with contempt. "Not everyone is down with your crap! Some of us will even hit back."

Helga remained unresponsive.

"Oh? Nothing to say? Could it be? The great Helga Pataki, the terror of P.S. 118, beaten so badly she couldn't even run her mouth afterward!"

And Helga, having caught on to the potential direction of Patty's monologue, finally looked up in a panicked state.

"Oh, so she _can_ hear me! Then hear this! Tomorrow your rep won't be worth shit! Everybody will hear about how the girl they feared so much just got her ass handed to her. Just think about the humiliation you've got to look forward to! All the kids you terrorized, suddenly pointing and laughing at you."

And the sad part, Helga realized, was that Patty could genuinely claim the moral high ground over her. While Helga was always spoiling for a confrontation, Patty…wasn't. Patty would never act unprovoked; as intimidating as she was, she was still very much in the " _I'm OK, You're OK_ " camp. And she had more to say as she slowly turned to walk away from her downed foe.

"And by the way…" - she stopped for maybe one final word - "you know Arnold? The boy who tried standing up for you? The boy who always goes to bat for you even after you keep telling the world you hate him and can't stand him and even wish he was dead? He's quite the caring one. And quite handsome too now that I think about it. In fact, I'm thinking of making a move on him…you know, seeing as he doesn't interest you in the slightest and doesn't deserve you anyway."

Patty Smith was three-quarters of the way to the door when the shriek from behind gave her cause to turn around. She did so to see an impossibly rejuvenated Helga charging at her, harder and faster than before. Issuing a guttural scream that was her battle cry. Shoulder braced for another charge.

_Pathetic_ , Patty had enough time to think. Enough time too to adopt a squatter stance, the better to brace for impact.

_This won't hurt. She's wasting her strength._

**xxXXXxx**

There was no reason, no strategy. Only stimulus and response, do or die. Her vision was through a red filter.

_She went there._

The ass-whupping she'd just taken? She'd live it down eventually. Even the fallout. She knew already how the latter scenario would play out. There'd be jeers and name-calling for a while, then Saint Arnold the Benevolent would intervene and rally the lot to forgive and accept her. Her beloved Arnold, always looking out for her, no matter how poorly she treated him. Maybe she didn't deserve his kindness, but she still loved him with all her being.

And then Patty went _there_. She invoked Arnold.

_No! Oh HELL no!_

It was willpower that made her ignore her injuries. It was reflex that saw her rise back to her feet. It was sheer recklessness that saw her charge toward Patty despite the obvious risks. Patty could see her coming and was now more firmly braced for impact than before. But not the impact Helga had in mind.

_Either I go down, or you go down._

Instead of targeting Patty's body, Helga came in low and lunged instead for the closest leg. The impact as her right shoulder connected with Patty's right thigh for a vicious grasscutter tackle felt satisfying. So too did the result, with Patty driven back, wincing fiercely, hopping around while nursing a dead leg on which she suddenly couldn't place any weight. And when Helga saw that hobbling spectacle, she saw blood. When she saw the confused look in Patty's eyes begging to know what just happened, she saw a target.

_You're going down!_

Helga closed in on her would-be tormentor, who was still unsteady on her feet. Time to make her unsteadier, as Helga swung a mighty leg and kicked the affected area. She heard what she was sure had not been heard before: a cry of pain from Patty.

_Good._

Everything Helga knew about fighting a bigger opponent, she'd gleaned from pro wrestling, especially from those David vs Goliath matches. Sure they were scripted, and the spots could be seen coming a mile away, but the moves must have had some real-world precedent. There was always one consistent method for David to get one up on Goliath. Attack the legs, without mercy. So she did as she focused on Patty's vulnerable thigh and quad. Kick after kick, stomp after stomp. A ragged grunt through tightly gritted teeth accompanying each angry, brutal strike. No words: they were unnecessary.

Patty was a mixture of pain and shock at having had the tables turned so dramatically. She tried desperately to limp away from Helga, only for her now-attacker to chase her down, deny her any space, and relentlessly continue the onslaught on her right thigh and quad. To cries of pain and pleas from mercy from the bigger girl, building in volume and duration with each landed strike, verging – Helga would later swear – closer and closer towards tears.

Eventually, Helga found herself too close to Patty, who took the opportunity to grab her blonde attacker by the one pigtail, then the other. The better to pull her in and administer a desperate headbutt to her brow. The blow stunned Helga, bloodied her forehead, and caused her to stagger back before she realized that Patty still had her by her hair. Patty followed up with another headbutt, this time to her nose. The impact produced a sickeningly squishy sound as the cartilage seemed to give in. Patty felt Helga go limp after that second blow. She would have continued her attack but for her damaged right leg. What she really wanted to do was put as much distance between her and Helga as possible, and get the hell away from the violent, psychotic little freak. To that end, she used what support she still had in her legs to spin around in another full revolution. It hurt the bad leg like hell, but Helga's pained cries at being yanked by her hair were provided ample justification. Patty then flung her opponent away, still by her hair. In the process, she broke the clips holding either pigtail in place, then watched as Helga landed again on the floor, just as hard as before. She remained down. Face down, long blond hair flowing in all directions. Downed for good, hopefully.

This was Patty's chance to escape. She made a slow, hobbling bid for the door. She was almost there too when…

"Going somewhere, Patty?"

…she felt Helga jump onto her back. And before Patty could even attempt shaking off the little terrier, her eyes widened as she then felt Helga's arms coil around her neck. By the time she realized it, it was too late: Helga had her in a chokehold and was holding on for all her worth.

Helga had gone back to her pro wrestling and its David vs Goliath clichés. Another one of those clichés was that once David had immobilized Goliath, he'd finish him with a sleeper hold or some other cool-sounding lock or hold that was usually his trademark. Hence the sleeper hold, which she reckoned would be easiest to apply. Helga felt an all-consuming rage as she squeezed harder. The end result mattered, only the end result. Not Patty's violent swinging and thrashing, nor her repeated gagging cries of ' _Helga, I can't breathe!_ ' Not even her attempt to escape the hold by leaping into the air and falling backward on the floor, hopefully to squash her aggressor into releasing the hold. Helga was even deaf to her own ranting during the struggle.

" _You can't have him! I won't let you, I SWEAR TO GOD!"_

Through it all, Helga held on tightly, unyieldingly. Until she felt Patty stop thrashing.

Helga then extricated herself from under the giantess, whom she saw was merely unconscious given that she was still breathing, albeit in shallow wisps.

"I'll admit, Patty," she began speaking calmly – yet still in much pain – as she struggled out from beneath her foe, "you did have a point when you said I deserved the beating."

With her extrication accomplished, she shifted back towards Patty…

"I mean…yeah, the fallout would have been a bitch...but I'd handle it," she continued, still with her calm demeanor. "Those clowns in my class aren't anywhere _near_ the worst part of my life, you know."

…until she was on top of her, straddling her…

"And I'll admit I crossed the line when I made those personal insults about you. And my apology still stands, by the way."

…the better to grab her by the collar and lift up her head…

"But so did you when you brought Arnold into the equation." – her voice became angrier at this point – "Threatening to make a move on him, take away from me the one good thing I have to live for."

…and – _WHACK!_ – plant a solid right fist on it. Then another. And another. And another.

_WHACK!_

_WHACK!_

_WHACK!_

_WHACK!_

Continuing. Not aiming anywhere in particular. Cheek. Forehead. Nose. Eye. _Anywhere_ that presented itself as a target.

All the while: "He's! Just! Too! Damn! _Important!_ To! M—"

Next she knew, she felt a set of hands grab her from behind and forcefully pull her off Patty and away from her. Now it was Helga's turn to writhe and wriggle and protest as she struggled violently to free herself and resume pounding Patty. But try as she might, whoever grabbed her had trapped her arms and wasn't letting go.

"Let go of me!" she yelled to her assailant. "Let… _GO_ OF ME!"

She kept thrashing about, out of control and yelling to be let go while still struggling against whoever dared interrupt her moment.

"Helga! _Helga!_ " the familiar voice shouted to her. "That's enough! It's over now!"

"No, let me go! _LET ME GO!_ I'm not done with her yet!" she protested back to the unseen figure.

"Helga, it's me! It's _Arnold!_ It's OK now! It's over!"

_Arnold?_

* * *

_Some help I turned out to be_ , he bitterly regretted.

Arnold had watched helplessly as Patty led Helga into the hall. He should have taken Helga's words to heart and left with the rest. But try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to leave and forsake Helga. A part of him still hoped that Patty had heard him out and would do the right thing and at the very least go easy on Helga.

Helga, the girl who would always publicly announce her hatred of him. And yet he couldn't bring himself to hate her back. He always remembered her as the sad, pretty girl from Urban Tots with the pink ribbon. So sad, as if she had lost hope in the world and was lashing out in the only way she knew. And now she'd gone too far and was paying for her actions.

_And I couldn't help her! I couldn't fix this for her!_

He was taking his failure hard, harder than he should have. Logic _did_ dictate that she had this coming, but…no. As much as she tormented him, he still considered her his friend. She remained a fascinating person, whom he just wanted to get to know so much better.

_If only she'd let me!_

_If only—_

And then he heard a roar from inside, from where previously only muffled sounds had emanated.

_That was Helga's voice! Oh no, has it gotten serious? Has it gotten life-threatening?_

To hell with finding another way! To hell with the risk! He had to stop this, right now! Arnold ran for the door, only to find it locked, bolted from the inside. _Damn!_ He still had to get inside and it would have to be throught the main entrance inside the school. He took off, back into the school building. Sprinting down the passages faster than he could ever remember himself sprinting.

_Just be OK, Helga! Just hang in there!_

His legs and lungs were burning by the time he made it to the other entrance. And _thank goodness_ , it was unlocked as he discovered when he pulled on the door handle. In he ran to see – much to his confusion – Helga on top of Patty, pummeling her unrelentingly.

"Helga?" he called, but it was no use. Helga was past the point of hearing him; she was in her own zone as she worked Patty over.

" _HELGA, NO!_ " he repeated as he ran toward the two combatants.

* * *

"Yes Helga, it's Arnold," he repeated softly, unsure whether or not invoking his name would have a calming effect on the blonde girl.

"A-Arnold?" she repeated his name, seemingly coming out of the red-mist state in which he had found her. She'd stopped resisting him, so he felt it safe to loosen his grip on her and slowly turn her around to face him, with his hands now on her shoulders.

"Yes Helga. _Arnold_ ," he cooed back reassuringly. "It's over now. You're gonna be OK."

Only, she didn't look it. Her nose was bloody, as was her forehead. She had a bruise around her left eye. Her pigtails and her ribbon were gone; her hair was hanging loose, flaxen everywhere except for a patch over her brow that had become bloodstained from the gash it was covering. To say nothing of the general dishevelment of her clothing. A strap of her dress had been ripped off, and the fabric around her collar was badly stretched.

"A-Arnold?" she repeated, timidly and maybe even a little bit ashamed to see him.

"Come Helga," Arnold said softly. "Let me first take a look at Patty and see that she's not banged up too badly. Then we get you out of here and get you some help." He was about to let go of her so that he could attend to Patty when…

"AAAAAARRRHH, I'LL KILL HER! I'LL _KILL_ HER!"

It was Patty, not exactly recovered but nevertheless back on her feet. Her face showed several bruises, her left cheek was cut, and her left eye almost swollen shut. She was slowly bearing down on a catatonic Helga with a fury in her eyes that not even a really bad limp would assuage.

"Patty, don't do it!" called Arnold.

"Out of my way, Arnold!" warned Patty, reverting to her soft, menacing voice.

"No!" replied Arnold, placing himself in front of Helga with his arms stretched out wide and with a look of grim determination toward Patty.

"Out of my _way_ , Arnold", reiterated Patty in a more strained version of her quiet voice.

" _No!_ "

Patty kept advancing slowly, ignoring his words. He was on Helga's side, then he too was now her enemy. He was on her side, he'd fall down with her.

"Patty, you wanted this!" Arnold shouted, unaffected by her ominous approach. His words were enough to bring Patty's advance to a halt. " _You_ wanted to beat Helga up, even after she apologized to you and you accepted it!"

Patty remained still at his outburst. _Good_ , thought Arnold, _maybe I've gotten her attention_.

"There was _nothing_ about her not being allowed to fight back!" he continued. "I heard you like it when they fight back, how you like to crush their spirit when they see it's not enough! Patty, you _wanted_ this! You wanted this and you _lost_!"

Patty attempted another step forward, trying harder this time to ignore Arnold's words. Trying and not succeeding, allowing herself to pause for more words from Arnold.

"Patty, you're banged up and you can barely walk or even fight! You can't continue! It's over, Patty! _It's over!_ " – So forceful was that last sentence that it forced Patty Smith backward with one step – "For _both_ of you! Walk away, Patty! Walk away and we'll call it a draw!"

Damn that Arnold! Even when he wasn't on your side, it didn't mean he'd stop looking out for you. Damn him. _Damn_ him for being so logical and so disarming, even when he had that angry look in his eyes! Is that how he had his effect on Helga Pataki so that she was all ' _you can't have him'_?

Patty's pause became longer as Arnold's words played inside her head. His words made sense: she was unable to continue fighting, and her efforts would be best spent getting back home and getting her injuries looked at. She'd tell her parents she had a (very) bad fall; they'd most likely believe her. As for Arnold and Helga…

"OK Arnold," she conceded, "we play it your way." She then spoke over him to a now deliriously loopy Helga: "Helga, this isn't over!"

She then turned around and hobbled to the door and exited the hall. With Patty gone, Arnold could focus fully on Helga. He turned back to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked her dead in the eyes as he asked: "Helga, are you OK? Can you move?"

"Hehehe…footballhead so funny…footballhead so cute…" muttered Helga as the last of her adrenaline was used up and she went limp and collapsed towards Arnold.

Sleep was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go, all you kind and wonderful readers. Who knew Helga had it in her? All she needed was the right motivation, right? But there's still the matter of the fallout.
> 
> And so to the notes:
> 
> The fight was inspired largely by one of my all-time favorite pro wrestling matches: Bret "Hitman" Hart vs Diesel at Survivor Series 1995.
> 
> Look, I get it. Post-TJM, we're all looking into the future when Helga will eventually wean herself off looking to Arnold as her anchor in life and their situation will become less toxic. But I still like looking to the past as there are still more than a few stories to be told.
> 
> If nothing else, I relish tapping into the earlier, less grounded, more erratic, more sociopathic Helga who revels in her flaws and social inadequacies, but who nevertheless still wants to be acknowledged by the great love of her life.
> 
> And as I know that someone is already primed and ready to ask why no school staff member was around to intervene between Helga and Patty, I've already prepared an answer. Consider that in the episode, Helga vs Patty was widely broadcast and anticipated across an entire school grade, yet no teacher caught wind of it, let alone showed up to break up or prevent the fight, let alone became suspicious of a large gathering on school grounds after hours. I'm invoking these two plot points to explain the absence of any authority figures in my story.
> 
> And with that, this chapter's Deezer list:
> 
> The Payback – James Brown  
> Higher Love – James Vincent McMorrow  
> Odyssey – No Wyld  
> Lullaby – Shawn Mullins
> 
> And I believe I've said my say for this chapter. See you all next time.


	3. Consequence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: Helga puts up enough resistance to fight Patty to a stalemate. Patty reluctantly accepts the draw but vows the matter not yet resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

"Helga? Helga! Helga, can you hear me? Stay with me! Stay _with_ me!"

No dice, she was out cold. And Arnold was in a serious situation. Helga was hurt and in need of some medical attention. She had also just collapsed, but fortunately he'd been able to catch her and keep her from hitting the floor. He was now holding her limp figure around her waist, trying to keep her steady.

A sudden thought flashed through his mind as he held her. Despite his situation, he allowed himself to be surprised at how dainty in his arms she felt, in contrast to her usual airs of toughness and resolve. And as he kept holding on, he wondered out loud: "Just _who_ is the real Helga Pataki anyway?"

Reality quickly ended that train of thought and he was back to figuring out how best to help his blonde tormentor. Nurse Shelley would have to be his first option, even if it meant having to explain just how Helga ended up injured. He gently set Helga down, propping her against the nearmost wall. He left her in the hall to find the help she needed. Nurse Shelley was indeed his first option, right until the moment he arrived to find her station locked and her having departed for home. He resigned himself that the only help he could give Helga now was to her home for her to have her parents get her to a doctor. He returned to an unoccupied hall; Helga was nowhere in sight.

Finding her and catching up to her wasn't difficult. Arnold had surmised that she'd head for the only place she could: her home, to which he knew the directions. And in her present state, she couldn't have gained much of a lead in the time. Both conclusions proved correct; he caught up with her in next to no time as she was shambling groggily along the sidewalk.

"Helga," he began softly as he caught up with her and walked alongside her. "You're in no condition to be walking right now."

And as banged-up as she was, Helga had a little sass leftover just for Arnold. "No thanks to you, Paste For Brains!"

This would normally be the point where Arnold would go on the defensive and argue against her. This time, however, he felt it best to let her continue ranting as a distraction to the pain in which she still might have been.

"Why did you even bother sticking up for me? For all the good you did! I mean, look at me!" – She turned to him to display her marks – "You'd be better off not doing anything at all! But _no_ , you're Arnold Shortman who always has to stick his nose in everyone's business. Good Ole Arnold! When he steps in, you _know_ the day is saved! Children can sleep safely _DON'T TOUCH ME!_ "

He'd tried placing a hand on her shoulder, only for her to respond with a sudden violent outburst and an equally violent swat of his hand. Arnold decided against further attempts at contact and instead allowed Helga to continue her ranting as they continued walking. And she had lots to say, mostly about Arnold and his supposed lack of resolve. But as the walk progressed, her speech became more rambling, more emotional.

Then she let rip with: "Where were you when I needed you, Footballhead? I thought I could always depend on you! You were always like, the _one_ constant in my life I could always trust!"

And immediately something felt off about that last utterance. This wasn't an angry Helga anymore. This was a suddenly emotional Helga, now with an onset of hitched breathing. Maybe the fight had affected her more than just physically and she was struggling to contain her emotions. In which case, he'd have to get her off the street lest anyone witness her vulnerability. Her tough-girl bully persona may have always been aimed at him, but Arnold reckoned that act may have been all she had with which to define herself. If she were to lose that feature, then what would remain? And despite everything, he cared too much about her to let matters come to _that_.

Without touching her, he spoke: "Helga, change of plan."

She looked back at him, seemingly too overcome to respond, her breathing still hitched.

"My place is closer. Let's head there and take care of your cuts and bruises at least."

On any other day, a request like this to Helga Pataki would have been met with premium derision. Truth be told, this day was no different. Helga looked about to tear Arnold apart for his suggestion, but somehow her injured state appeared to stop her and suggest that his course of action made more sense.

"Oh whatever, Footballhead!" she conceded with an air of disinclination. "Lead on, Macduff, if you think it's for the greater good! And damned be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'"

* * *

"I'm home!" called Arnold as soon as he stepped into The Sunset Arms.

"Hey Short Man!" his grandfather acknowledged, coming into view from inside the kitchen. "Ooh? And you've brought your little lady friend OH SWEET MOTHER-OF-PEARL WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU, MISSY?"

His tone changed dramatically mid-sentence once he got a better look at Helga. A look he held on her. A look demanding an explanation.

"I…err…" Helga stammered for an immediate answer. "I…fell…" was the best she could muster.

"You fell," repeated a doubtful Phil. "And where exactly did you fall from? Mount McKinley?"

"Grandpa!" Arnold intervened. "It doesn't matter! Right now she needs help!"

"Trying to dodge the question, arent'cha, Short Man!" Phil's skepticism had not quite subsided. "Say, should I be expecting a visit from the authorities anytime soon?"

"Oh goodness! _Eleanor!_ What war did you just fight!" It was Gertie, appearing out of nowhere apparently. "Phil!" – she turned her attention to her husband's inattentiveness – "Enough with the questions! Can't you see the First Lady needs our assistance?"

"But Pookie, look what happened to her! Things like that usually involve lawsuits and won't we become accessories if we just—"

As if Gertie cared.

"Like I give a rat's patootie! Now go get the first aid kit! Kimba, get ice and a glass of water for our patient! Eleanor, take a seat!"

"Right!" replied Arnold and Helga in upright unison, the latter despite her condition. Arnold then rushed to the kitchen while Helga dutifully seated herself in the lounge.

Phil also followed his instruction, albeit more grumblingly: "Yeah, _sure!_ Get the first aid kid. How about I get the bone saw, the tourniquet, and the vodka while I'm at it?"

"Grandpa!"

"Phil!"

Arnold and Gertie shouted at him in simultaneous disapproval from their different locations. To which he responded: "I'm kidding! We ran out of vodka last week!"

With Arnold and Phil both currently occupied, that left Gertie and Helga alone. The sprightly old lady seized the brief opportunity to whisper to the blonde hoyden with a wink and a knowing smile: "So tell me, Eleanor. How does the other guy look?"

**xxXXXxx**

They sat in silence, Helga with wads of cotton up her nose, keeping Old Betsy on ice while Arnold attended to her wherever he felt was necessary and appropriate. His grandparents had for reasons unknown decided to leave them alone in this endeavor. To be more precise, Gertie had been the one to suggest their solitude. Her reasoning to Phil – communicated well away from the kids' earshot – was that she believed that the kids had some unpacking between each other that seemed long overdue.

Thus far, Arnold had swabbed the cut on her cheek – the one he didn't know was from Patty's backfist – and put a Band-Aid on it. He'd moved on to the one on her forehead, which he hadn't seen Patty inflict with her first headbutt. He was swabbing that wound as well, having moved the bloody fringe covering it back over her shoulder.

Helga ought to have been over the moon in this situation. She was receiving her beloved's undivided attention and concern. But she just wasn't feeling any euphoria and so reverted to her default belligerent state.

"I suppose you're enjoying this, aren't you, Footballhead?"

No response.

"Getting to show pity on the one who hates you the most. If you think this act of supposed kindness will suddenly and dramatically change my opinion of you, then let me tell you that you've got another thing coming!"

Still no response. Her words seemed to bounce off him as he continued with his ministrations.

" _OOH!_ So it's the silent treatment, is it? You think that ignoring me will make me go away? Hmph, pathetic! Everyone else seems to think so, why not Good Ole Arnold too?"

As bitter as her words and her tone were, they came forth with the same flash of emotion she'd shown back on the sidewalk on the way to The Sunset Arms. Arnold found this rather disconcerting, and thought now the time to begin enquiring if only to keep her distracted from the hard blows she'd taken from Patty.

"So you want my attention then," he offered, not taking his eyes off his medical responsibilities.

And if Helga had anything in her mouth, she'd have spat it out in response, such was her surprise. "W-W- _WHAT?_ _Me?_ Pining for _your_ attention? That's cold-day-in-hell material, Arnoldo! That's Big Foot, the grassy knoll, and Wheezin' Ed all rolled into the ultimate conspiracy theorist's pipe dream!"

"OK, so you hate me then," Arnold revised his answer, his voice still conveying no emotion.

"That's right, Footballhead!" she responded, the emotion threatening to overcome her. "Hate! Loathe! Despise! Abominate! Execrate! Pick your verb! And don't think this Good Samaritan act of yours will change my opinion about you! I spurn you, Arnold! I spurn you as I would a rabid dog!"

At this point, Arnold was done: the cut on her brow was treated and sporting a fresh Band-Aid. He took his time packing up the first aid kit and setting it aside. He then turned to face Helga, looking directly into her eyes. Yet for all his intensity, he _still_ conveyed no emotion her way.

No anger.

No disappointment.

Nothing she could read on his cute, handsome…enchanting…bewildering…face…

Helga felt how his emerald gaze seemed to reach all the way to her soul and immediately felt a twinge of remorse for her petulant outburst. She felt herself shrink slightly in his presence.

"I don't think I believe you," he said plainly, with no judgment.

Those words caught Helga unawares. "W-Whatever do you mean, Arnold?" was her response. Her wavering resolve was ordering her to deflect and obfuscate for all her worth. "Hmph! As if you believing me or not has any bearing on the outcome! I meant every word you heard today!"

Still unmoved, _still_ with no judgment, Arnold countered: " _Every_ word?"

"Yes, Footballhead, _every_ word! Have you gone deaf? What's your point, anyway?"

A momentary pause followed.

"He's," Arnold spoke flatly.

Helga wondered what tack Arnold was on this time.

"Just."

_Oh no!_

"Too."

_OH NO!_

"Damn"

_Stop it! STOP IT!_

"Important."

"I'm afraid you misheard, Arnold!" Helga hurriedly interrupted. "How desperate do you think I am? Don't flatter yourself! You really think I was talking about _you_?"

"Well, if not you…" he paused as he slowly and gently reached for the back of her head with his right hand. Helga wanted to resist, wanted to recoil away with all that she had, but couldn't as she felt neither threat nor danger in his movement. She sat still as he reached for her hair, then moved it over her left shoulder until it covered the left side of her face.

"…then what about Cecille?" he concluded as he recalled the state of her hair when he found her laying into Patty and pulled her off the bigger girl.

It took Helga a moment in her agitated state to cotton on to where the footballhead was heading with 'Cecille'. The penny did drop and oh boy when it did…

_He knows! He figured it out!_

Arnold watched as Helga first went pale, then beet red at his question. She then started sputtering, urgently trying and failing to find a suitable answer that could plausibly reconcile the contradictory threads brought up by Arnold, that furshlugginer busybody.

Only, she wouldn't have to, for Arnold next rose to announce to her: "OK, Helga. You're as patched up as I could get you. I think you should be able to get back home and get some rest. Maybe get your folks to take you to a doctor."

And Helga, apparently not wanting to leave well enough alone, had a further question. "I…I don't have to answer your question?"

"Not if you don't want to," he reassured her with utmost sincerity.

And Helga, apparently not wanting to see the way out he was offering her, still had another question: "But you'd like to _know_ , right?"

"Only when you're ready to answer," he reassured her once again, before moving to open the front door and hold it open for her.

Helga's first steps towards the door were more tentative than she would have liked them to be. She eventually saw the opportunity for what it was: a reprieve, a delay of what she now knew had become inevitable. Thus, she headed for the door where she passed Arnold. Once beside him, she stopped. She didn't look his way. She looked instead down at the floor as she whispered to him.

Softly.

Almost timidly.

No more fight left in her for the day.

"Thank you."

And she was gone.

* * *

The next morning there was much excitement buzzing all around P.S. 118, none of which was focused on any impending academic activity. Today was the day they'd know the outcome of yesterday's scuffle/altercation/massacre, depending on whose opinion was sought. As always, the smart money was all on Patty while all bets on Helga centered on how long she'd lasted before the inevitable downfall.

Those who backed Patty – read: everyone – felt their choice justified when Helga didn't show up for homeroom. The whisper network ravenously latched on to this snippet of information and went to town with it. In very short order, numerous stories were doing the rounds of how Patty sent Helga to the doctor, the ER, or even the morgue. More extreme interpretations of the fact even maintained that Patty had bypassed the medical facilities entirely and had sent Helga straight to the funeral parlor.

However, as the morning progressed, word started filtering down from the Sixth Grade how Patty had also not shown up for her homeroom. This served to split opinion over Helga's fate. One side contended that she had been able to put up a fight against Big Patty, for which they were promptly ridiculed. The popular opinion was merely amended. In it, Big Patty had beaten Helga so badly that the matter was now in the police's hands and that the big girl was now being questioned by detectives for Assault on Helga G. Pataki.

The arguments raged on until well into lunchtime when the first of the participants appeared in the lunch hall. In walked Helga, appearing to nurse her ribs. In addition to that, she sported two Band-Aids on her face, while her left eye was bruised black and blue, as was her nose.

The murmuring started instantly as she ignored the masses – she didn't even try to threaten them into silence with Old Betsy, whom the more eagle-eyed saw was bruised at the knuckles. Helga simply moved under all the speculation to take a seat beside her best friend, Phoebe, where she remained silent amid the unrelenting murmurs and whispers.

A few minutes later, the murmurs and whispers then abruptly stopped as all present turned toward the entrance where stood Big Patty. While Helga's appearance had been grounds for energetic speculation, Patty's brought about a funereal pall of silence. Her face bore similar marks and bruises to those of Helga's with the addition of her left eye and cheek being more severely swollen. Most telling, however, was the crutch she was using as a result of her right leg which now sported a rigid brace around the knee.

Not even the bravest souls in the hall dared to ask her what had befallen her. For that matter, the bravest souls in the hall wouldn't even raise their voices for a conversation amongst themselves. Patty exploited the silence by limping over to an available seat. Under the silent scrutiny, she nonchalantly went about slowly unpacking her lunch – her usual sandwich – from its paper bag. Next were the slow, deliberate motions of eating her sandwich before tidying up her area.

With that done, she rose to her feet and began speaking to her captive audience.

"No, you are not mistaken. This really happened," she said to huge gasps from all around.

Except for Arnold, who reckoned: _Something's off. Yesterday she was threatening to kill Helga. Now she's admitting defeat. What happened since then?_

He then turned to Helga, who looked like she couldn't decide between being smug or suspicious. _Better be careful, Helga. She might be up to something._

"Be warned, everyone," continued Patty, "because Helga Pataki is the real deal! She gives as good as she takes and she makes the rest of you look like wimps."

That prompted a new round of stunned gasps and looks of amazement now aimed at Helga's way. There was even an almost indiscernible "Go Helga" coming from an isolated corner – it was Mary. Arnold looked back at Helga with the rest to see that her smugness had now overtaken her suspicion. _No Helga, don't drop your guard!_

"AND…she's properly motivated in a fight," continued Patty, and Arnold could see how Helga continued basking in her glory.

"Anybody want to guess what her motivation is in even the most hopeless situation?"

Until she stopped. Panic and uncertainty had now reclaimed some of her smugness.

"Here's a clue," continued Patty. "He's a boy."

The eyes on Helga started narrowing. One or two faces started smiling in predatory anticipation.

"You think she's down for the count," Patty continued. "You tell her you're thinking of making a move on him just to stick it to her. Next thing you know, she's on her feet in a berserker rage. _Next_ thing you know, she's all: ' _YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM!_ '. Then _this_ happens."

With that, she paused for all once more to take in the extent of her injuries. At that, some quiet, isolated sniggering began in different quarters. Patty then took the opportunity to eye Helga, to whom she shot a smug look of her own. She found Helga's now completely panicked expression to be nourishment for her eyes and her soul. _Good!_

The sustained silence allowed her to continue. This time her eyes found Arnold as he was looking at Helga with utmost concern.

"HEY ARNOLD!" she called his way, attracting his attention, causing him to turn her way. "I BET YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU HAD SUCH A WAY WITH THE LADIES! AND WITH _HELGA_ OF ALL PEOPLE!"

A few of the slowest and tensest seconds that Arnold and Helga had ever experienced, then passed as all gathered made their own connection. But they all did eventually, and by the resumption of the murmuring, it was clear that everyone had drawn the same conclusion.

And that's when the laughter started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done with another chapter! Once again, thank you so much for giving your time and attention to read this most recent chapter. I'm glad that you're reading it, more so if you're enjoying it. Let me know your thoughts if you feel so inclined; I'm always willing to hear you out.
> 
> As for the notes:
> 
> Helga's emotional outbursts are in no way intended to undermine her character. Twenty years of teaching martial arts have taught me that it's pretty normal for such delayed reactions to occur after a fight, especially when a fighter isn't yet conditioned to receiving hard contact. More so if it's the first-ever hard blow and the fighter doesn't yet know how to process the data. Helga circa the third season (in which this story plays out) is used to dishing it out (to Brainy) but has not yet been on the receiving end of a hard strike.
> 
> I am aware that Mt. McKinley was officially renamed Denali in 2015. But Season 3 plays out during 1998-1999 when McKinley was still the name according to the Department of the Interior (DOI).
> 
> I didn't originally want to do the scene where Arnold treats Helga's wounds for fear of it being a retread of a one-shot I previously wrote - Neurotransmissions (Or: That's Just Not Cricket). Then out of the blue, I received correspondence from a fellow writer asking if I was planning to continue that story. I stated - with reasons - that I wasn't. But he did inspire me to try a much more dramatic take on a scene I'd previously written as a comedy.
> 
> And so we now come to this chapter's Deezer list:
> 
> End of Line – Daft Punk  
> Maybe – Prata Vetra  
> The Tears of a Clown – Smokey Robinson & The Miracles  
> Give Me A Reason – The Corrs
> 
> That's it then for Chapter 3. See you in 4!


	4. Haecceity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: Helga and Arnold have an accidental heart to heart while he tends to her wounds from Patty. Neither anticipates Patty's follow-up the following day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

_"HEY ARNOLD! I BET YOU NEVER THOUGHT YOU HAD SUCH A WAY WITH THE LADIES! AND WITH HELGA OF ALL PEOPLE!"_

For all of her short life, Helga Pataki had come to believe that all the world was against her. And she had spent all of that life fighting back, so she thought she was ready for anything. But no, life had proven a tricky opponent. Every time she thought she had its number, it would hit back and surprise her with a new tactic.

And here she was today, during her lunch break, on the receiving end of another of life's dirty tricks. The latest version: her secret – her weakness – being shared with all the world. The result: an all-encompassing field of laughter and jeers.

Incoherence disorientating her. Taunts and jibes to her left. Hisses and catcalls to her right.

"HELGA'S GOT A _BOYFRIEND!_ " from an unknown quarter.

" _HELGA LOVES ARNOLD!_ " from another.

Kissy-faces scattered throughout.

" _HELGA AND ARNOLD, SITTING IN A TREE..!"_

Kissing sounds thrown all around.

And the laughter. Always the laughter. The most painful part of all. Loud. Derisive. Unyielding. Unending. Her love for Arnold: the most intense, most precious part of her. Reduced now to a joke, a punchline. _That_ hurt the most. And all because of she who was Helga Pataki. All because she went and blabbed in a ferocious red-mist state fuelled by desperation and adrenaline and righteous fury. She thought Patty was bluffing when she said the matter wasn't yet over.

Patty wasn't bluffing. She was standing at her table, basking in Helga's dilemma. Helga wanted with every fiber in her being to run across the hall to her and continue beating the tar out of her. Injuries be damned! Crutch be damned!

Phoebe must have sensed her intent and so prevented her best friend from rising to her feet. "Helga, don't do it!" urged the diminutive girl amidst the noise. "You'll play into her hands if you do!"

"Let go, Phoebe!" countered Helga. "She wants another round? Guess what! I'm in a giving mood!"

"No, don't!" Phoebe was now pleading in desperation with her. "Attack her in her injured state and you'll just make things worse for yourself! Helga, don't _do_ it!"

"Phoebe's right, Helga! You're much better than that!" It was Arnold now, come over to stop Helga from doing anything foolish. As he spoke, he placed a hand on her shoulder in hope that it would calm her down. His gesture did not go undetected – how could it? – so the instant he made contact, the laughter stopped very briefly to be replaced by an equally audible and equally sustained collective "OOOOOOOOOO!". The calls made Helga all too aware of Arnold's touch on her shoulder, and her mortification resurfaced in the form of crippling red shyness.

Suddenly there was a decision to be made. Arnold, or saving face: which one was more important?

Arnold or saving face.

_Arnold or saving face._

_ARNOLD! OR! SAVING! FACE!_

" _DON'T TOUCH ME, FOOTBALLHEAD!_ " Helga's scream echoed her decision, and a full cafeteria was shocked into silence at the sight of her hitting away Arnold's hand. All eyes were then witness to her rising to her feet and getting in his face to yell: "STAY AWAY FROM ME! YOU'VE BEEN NOTHING BUT TROUBLE TO ME SINCE YESTERDAY! I DON'T WANT YOUR HELP! I NEVER WANTED IT!"

"But Helga..!" responded Arnold, reaching once more for Helga.

"I said…DON'T… _TOUCH_ …ME!" she shouted back before it happened. The slap. The slap that reverberated through the cafeteria into the eyes, ears, and consciousness of all present. The slap in which Helga's right palm connected cleanly with Arnold's left cheek. The slap that was hard enough to draw blood from Arnold's mouth and disturb his balance.

The slap that made Helga Geraldine Pataki immediately gasp in horror and disbelief at what she had just done. The slap that brought about instant regret to Helga Geraldine Pataki upon which she was too frozen in place to act.

Her disbelief was also the disbelief of her peers, who suddenly became too scared to make any sound. And so silence descended over the venue and persisted for some seconds. During those seconds, Arnold was able to look back at Helga. Their eyes locked, her scared blue gaze apologizing for not having an explanation for her actions.

It had become too much for her as she turned away from him and hobbled away as quickly as possible. Arnold wanted to call after her, but he was too shocked to do so. He wanted to run after her, but Phoebe put an end to those intentions by blocking him and whispering in a stern but understanding tone: "No, best to give her some space and some time alone."

Arnold was deciding whether or not to agree with Phoebe's recommendations when the blacked-haired girl continued with a more emphatic whisper: "Arnold, she didn't mean it! She honestly didn't! It was the stress of the situation!"

Phoebe next adopted a conflicted look, as if internally debating over what she would next whisper. She eventually spoke as if trying not to betray anyone's confidence for some reason: "She cares too much about you to do something like that on purpose! I promise, Arnold! I _swear!_ "

"My man, are you OK?"

The new voice further interrupted Arnold's train of thought on how to handle Helga. It was Gerald arriving to check up on his best friend.

"Oh man! She got you good!" he commented upon getting a closer look. "You're bleeding from your mouth!"

"Oh dear!" Phoebe squeaked in surprise. "Best advice would be to get that cleaned up before our classes resume."

"Good idea, Babe," concurred Gerald. He then turned to his friend: "Come Arnold. Let's blow this joint so maybe you can tell me just what the _hell_ that was all about!"

"And remember please," Phoebe interjected again to remind Arnold. "Just give her some space for now."

Someone must have heard that last instruction from Phoebe and seen fit to repeat it more loudly. "Yeah, Arnold! Give her more space!"

Not to mention in a much more sneering tone. It was Wolfgang and his goons calling from somewhere within the masses; _they'd_ never miss a chance to pounce on a downtrodden Arnold Shortman and this was as prime an opportunity as they were likely to have.

"Yeah! So she can rest up before slapping you some more!"

"But I bet you like that, don't you, Footballhead?"

Next, they were making whipcrack noises as Arnold left the hall with Gerald in tow. To Arnold's credit, he ignored their remarks and catcalls with the same poise and dignity with which he always did. It was as if they only existed to him when he wanted them to, which wasn't often. The rest of the congregation seemed to share his viewpoint, as nobody else joined in Wolfgang and Co's laughter, nor did anyone contribute to their derisive statements.

Patty remained at her seat, bemused to find herself no longer the focus of attention. " _Well now!_ " she mused wryly to herself. "Things just got a whole lot more interesting!"

* * *

For the rest of the day, Arnold found Helga not even looking in his direction in class. On any other day, he'd have welcomed the peace. No pranks, no spitballs: it should have been bliss, easily worth the inconvenience of a cut lip.

But the way she'd struck him was way off from her usual bully persona. Even before the strike landed, he'd noted the look in her blue eyes.

Confused. Conflicted. Overwhelmed. A scared girl battling with herself and losing. Ready to take the easiest way out, to hell with anything else.

A girl now barely even talking to her best friend seated beside her. Phoebe had been working overtime offering platitudes and soothing words to Helga as only she could. But by the final bell, it was clear that her efforts hadn't been enough. Helga was gone before Arnold could register her departure. He'd taken his eyes away from her direction for exactly as long as required to pack his things, only to look back to an empty desk.

"Why do I even bother?" Gerald's fatalistic voice entered his ears amidst the commotion.

Arnold turned to his friend: "Excuse me, Gerald?"

"I'd ask you not to even think about going after Helga," clarified Number 33 while not even looking Arnold's way, "but you've already made up your mind. You're going after her anyway."

Arnold rationalized immediately: "Gerald, she's confused!"

It was then that Gerald turned Arnold's way. "Mm-mm-mm! Ain't nothing confusing about that cut on your lip! And what's there to talk about anyway? She hates you, despite what Big Patty said, _and_ despite how you helped her yesterday."

The whole truth was that Gerald didn't know the whole truth. Arnold had informed him of the aftermath of Helga vs Big Patty, and of how he'd helped Helga at The Sunset Arms. And that was that: no mention of any of the more…intimate…aspects.

"Gerald, it's…it's…more complicated than that. I don't know exactly where we stand with each other but I don't think she hates me."

"Arnold, she slapped you," Gerald's droll voice reflected how tedious and grating his friend's stubbornness could become. "But hey, you know better. You always do."

"Gerald, I can't just leave it at that and you _know_ it!"

"Fine, whatever. Your mind's made up and I'm just in your way. Good luck and I hope you remember to duck next time."

* * *

Finding Helga this time round proved impossible for Arnold. His first assumption was that she'd head straight home to avoid any public attention. Wrong, as he was met at the Pataki residence by her mother who once again mistook his name for Alfred as she told him that no, Helga hadn't yet come home.

"Is Helga in trouble, Alfred?" she'd asked in a voice devoid of energy, yet also brimming with maternal concern. "Yesterday she came home covered in bruises and Band-Aids. Is she alright?"

"She was fine the last time I saw her, Mrs. Pataki," replied Arnold, not bothering to correct his name. "I'm just here to see if she's still fine."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you, you dear boy!" Miriam responded with as much heartfelt enthusiasm as her tired spirit could manage. "Helga's so very lucky to have a friend like you!"

Arnold thanked Miriam and excused himself to resume his search for Helga. The initial guess had been a bust, now all that remained was a process of elimination.

Phoebe's home: Nope. _And Arnold, you need to give her space!_

Any of the surrounding parks: No luck.

The boardwalk district: Negative.

After all of his effort, he had no choice but to concede defeat and conclude that when Helga Pataki goes into hiding, Witness Protection had best take notes. Defeated, he trudged back to The Sunset Arms. His greeting as he entered was less than enthusiastic, as was his walk to his room. He climbed the stairs and opened the door.

And that's where he found her.

* * *

There was Helga, lying on her side on his bed, hugging his pillow tightly against her chest. She stirred slightly to look his way as he made his entrance, and their eyes locked for a long moment as he relieved himself of his backpack. She looked so very tired as if she'd singlehandedly just fought the world and was resting before the next round.

"Took you long enough, Footballhead!", she rebuked him, forgoing any formal greeting. "I've been waiting here forever!"

In that one pose, having issued that rebuke, she embodied the mystique of Helga Pataki. At that very moment, she was a living paradox: tough yet vulnerable; vexing yet fascinating.

"You mean you came here straight from school?" Arnold asked in what he wanted to be disbelief.

"Well, doi!" she answered. "I figured you'd want answers and an apology for what happened in the cafeteria today."

"And _I_ thought you'd want to disappear after what happened," countered Arnold. "I searched the whole neighborhood for you, you know?"

"Well seek and ye shall find," she proclaimed in a voice fully conveying her tiredness. "You know, Footballhead?" she continued. "I heard your question yesterday in the hall after I collapsed. You know, the one you asked when you thought nobody was listening. 'Just _who_ is the real Helga Pataki anyway?' Remember that?"

"Yeah, I do," replied Arnold, very much matter-of-factly instead of awkwardly. "The one who almost confessed to not really hating me, the one who beat up Patty because she didn't want to lose me, or the one who slapped me in full view of the lunch crowd. You seem to be so many different people in one package."

They both knew he had every right to be livid with her, but the tone of his question betrayed only a sense of confusion that Helga alone could address.

"Would you be shocked, Arnold," she responded, her voice still weary, "if I told you that the correct answer is ' _all of the above_ '?"

"Really now?" he asked back with rising doubt. "That's the best you can do?"

"Listen, I'm being serious here!" she countered in a stern voice. "There's just so much behind what happened at lunch. For once, even _I_ don't know how to fully explain things."

As Helga spoke, Arnold took the opportunity to seat himself at his desk in preparation for the pending conversation.

"OK then, let's start with the first issue," he commenced. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

What truly surprised both participants was the ease with which Helga answered the question. No pausing, no prior contemplation, no stammering. Her tone unequivocal and furthest from defensive.

"OK, that's a good start," reacted Arnold, allowing himself to smile faintly at Helga. She appeared to have picked up on his smile and it must have made her that bit more at ease. "But you don't exactly like me either, am I right?"

Helga's answer would render both of them shocked by its frankness, and also with her calm delivery thereof. "You want the truth, footballhead? 'Like' is too weak for what I feel about you. It's love, Arnold. Love."

"You're joking, right?"

"I'm afraid not, Arnoldo," she affirmed with a hint of melancholy to her still-calm demeanor. "I mean, consider the following. You're easily the nicest-looking boy in class. And you've got the kindest, biggest heart of anyone I'm ever likely to know. Easily enough – _more_ than enough – to steal my heart. To make me dream of a life of romance with you as my beloved. Sharing with you the kind of love that will be spoken of for centuries. One that will inspire countless generations of writers and poets to offer their interpretations of the greatest love that humankind has ever known."

As she spoke, she closed her eyes and hugged the pillow ever more tightly as her breathing became heavier and her tone more passionate. Witnessing her soliloquy and her physical reaction to it was almost too much for Arnold, who turned red and looked away from her from the resulting bashfulness. _Is she for real? Do I really do that to her?_ Helga noted his response and went silent to allow him to recover.

"And then I screw it up royally every time you're near me by telling everyone how I hate you…," her voice was back to its melancholy version.

"Yeah, about that.." interrupted Arnold, still looking a bit bashful now that Helga had elaborated on the extent to which she found him attractive. "If I'm all that, then why…well…why the bad blood?"

"Simple answer, Footballhead. Loving you is too damn inconvenient for me."

Arnold could now be knocked over by a feather from the impact of that answer. But he wasn't, and so fired back with: "So…you don't hate me at all…but I'm also an inconvenience…Is that right? Is that what I'm hearing?"

"Wait, it's not your fault, it's mine!" Helga was very quick to clarify and mitigate. "Because _I'm_ Helga Pataki. _I'm_ the toughest person wherever I go! _I_ don't show weakness and emotion like all those other schmucks. I don't need anyone to look out for me, never did!"

There it was again, the burst of emotion she'd displayed the previous day. This time though, it was accompanying a much more subdued and regretful voice.

"That's what I learned from my family – if you can call them that. All of it learned from following their example. Always take care of number one. You can't depend on anybody but yourself. Don't show emotions; emotions are a sign of weakness."

It was clear to Arnold that Helga wanted to launch into a misanthropic litany, but she instead stopped her rambling and went back to hugging his pillow as tightly as before. She resumed momentarily with: "That was my world, that _is_ my world. My domain, where I alone am in control."

"And somehow loving me spoils everything…" Arnold surmised, with sadness his new dominant feature. "So what would you have me do?"

"Excuse me?" Now it was Helga's turn to react with confusion as she sat up on the bed for a better look at her fellow blonde.

"You say it's you, not me," he began with his sadness slowly building up towards annoyance. "And yet you still explain yourself as if _I'm_ to blame."

He watched as Helga motioned to rebut his words, but he quickly moved to cut her off. "Seriously, Helga, it's bad enough that you hated my guts without telling me why and denying me even a chance to _try_ and make things right between us." – His annoyance kept rising – "Now you say it's because you love me but you're ashamed of it. Is that what I am to you? An embarrassment? Someone you're ashamed to be seen with in public? Or someone you want to love but only on _your_ terms?"

Those words hurt Helga more deeply and more profoundly than anything Patty had done to her over the past two days. Arnold saw that much in her reaction, but now was his turn to talk and he wasn't yet done.

"Is that why you slapped me today?" he asked pointedly, his annoyance rising still.

"No..!" Helga answered very hurriedly, almost instantly.

"Was it a choice you made?" he continued, completely disregarding her answer. "Either you admit you like me – correction, _love_ me – or save your precious tough girl image in front of a group of kids who shouldn't really matter anyway."

" _No..!_ " Helga insisted more emphatically.

"I mean, didn't you just say _you're_ Helga Pataki, _you're_ the toughest wherever you go? Where was _she_ during lunch when she could _really_ show how tough she is?"

And Helga Pataki would snap: "Shut _up_ , you damn footballhead! Who are you to be judging me like that? A regular angel: I bet that's what you think you are. I'll bet it's _oh_ -so difficult for you to walk around us regular human beings and not be offended by all the flaws and imperfections surrounding you!"

And Arnold Shortman would snap back: "Helga, that is such a crock!"

Helga was taken further aback by his directness as she now scrambled for an answer, a comeback, a distraction, _anything_. Again, Arnold cut her off. "Honestly, Helga. It would have been better if you kept saying you hated me. That way at least I would always know where we stood!"

Helga, feeling her wounded pride surge significantly, opted to stick with her strategy of attacking Arnold. "At least that would be progress for you! Look how dense you've been! If I didn't make my feelings known to you just now, you'd still be as blissfully unaware as ever!"

" _YOU NEVER GAVE ME ANY REASON TO EVEN THINK THAT YOU MIGHT EVEN LIKE ME!"_ – Arnold's annoyance had now evolved to anger which was now threatening to overcome him – " _MAYBE I WAS DENSE, BUT YOU DIDN'T EXACTLY HELP MUCH EITHER!_ "

There was a longish pause to follow after Arnold's outburst during which he was able to calm down somewhat while Helga took the time to run his last words through her mind. When they looked at each other again, there was no longer anger nor frustration in either one's gaze. Instead, there was…neither was exactly sure. Maybe it was the beginning – the tiniest flickering – of a mutual understanding. A hope that at the very least some common ground could be reached.

"Helga," resumed Arnold in his more familiar softer and pragmatic voice, "I think we'd better stop now before one of us says something that could really set us back. I'm sure we can continue this discussion once both of us have gotten a chance to cool off."

"Uh…yeah," agreed a hesitant Helga.

"Look, I'm sorry I raised my voice at you," he offered.

Some actions had to happen before Helga accepted his apology. First, she tossed aside his pillow before rising to her feet. Next, she stepped over to him and motioned him to his feet as well. Then, a brief pause before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and warmly embraced him the way he'd found her hugging the pillow. Arnold's response was pure reflex: before he could register the act, he had returned the taller girl's embrace with the same warmth which she was hugging him.

Mid-embrace and with his eyes still shut, he whispered: "So does this mean 'apology accepted'?"

"Such a dense, caring footballhead," Helga whispered back sweetly while not letting go of him.

* * *

Helga was reluctant to be shown the door but eventually, they'd said their goodbyes at the front door and Helga was on her way. As Arnold watched her leave, he couldn't help but smile his usual teeth-baring grin. Why not? For all the drama that had transpired, the day had ended on an optimistic note: he was one step closer to understanding the inner workings of Helga Pataki. Who knew what this could lead to..?

**xxXXXxx**

Unseen by Arnold, Helga was equally as beaming as she hopped, skipped, and pirouetted her way to her destination. She too felt that she and the Footballhead finally had a base to build on. Could she dare hope that they were on their way to..?

**xxXXXxx**

Arnold returned inside The Sunset Arms where now stood his grandmother, who was smiling at him, implying a knowledge of what had transpired in his room.

"Well, Kimba," she began, "I suppose we should be relieved you and Eleanor didn't kill each other up there."

Her statement produced its desired result as the youngest Shortman was rendered red-faced. "Um…sorry it got a bit loud, Grandma," he sheepishly apologized.

"No worries," reassured Gertie. "Eleanor's quite the firebrand, but that's why she fascinates you, right? Besides, nothing like a bit of heat to spice up a relationship!"

And though Arnold's red complexion didn't improve from his grandmother's kind intentions, he still felt the need to thank her. "But thanks for letting her in and having her wait for me in my room!"

"Now who said I let her in, Kimba?" replied Gertie, before turning to head wherever she needed to be. "For that matter," she turned to look at him over her shoulder sporting a suggestive grin, "who said anything about her coming in through any door?"

* * *

Gertie and Arnold weren't alone in witnessing Helga's departure. As if to provide a display of the random and unpredictable nature of daily life, a bystander near The Sunset Arms saw the front door open and thought to pay it no further mind. That was the plan until said bystander witnessed Helga Pataki exit the building while looking rather chummy with the footballhead.

The onlooker happened to be in a nearby alley, out of the targets' view. Concealed enough, yet also close enough to note the goofy smiles the two blondes were smiling. _I wonder why. What were they doing all afternoon?_

The Pataki girl even had a lot of bounce to her step as she left; she looked like she was damn near dancing. Anyhow, this was news and someone in particular would be _very_ interested to hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And cut! That's a wrap for this chapter. As ever, please accept my most heartfelt gratitude for your patronage and your continued interest.
> 
> And so to my notes:
> 
> You may be surprised to be told that this chapter was centered around the heart-to-heart between Arnold and Helga. As such, took me four days of writing, tweaking, rewriting, contextualizing, and omitting before I felt satisfied with the end result. The goal was not for them to have a romantic epiphany, but at the very least to find common ground regarding their relationship.
> 
> For that reason, I felt that them sharing a hug would carry more emotional weight than them kissing.
> 
> I seem to find myself disagreeing with the apparent consensus that pre-TJM Arnold was ignorant (read: dense) of Helga's feelings towards him. I feel he just never had any reason to assume she was harboring such feelings for him and thus I not-too-subtly worked that point into the story. It's still a major step up from his earliest incarnations. In one of Craig Bartlett's earliest comics - 'Arnold Does Another Recess' - he treats Helga with total indifference as if she's an annoyance.
> 
> So on to this chapter's Deezer list:
> 
> She's Always A Woman – Billy Joel  
> Favourite Scar – Leona Lewis  
> Have Mercy – Yazz  
> Know By Now – Zoë Graham
> 
> And that's it for this chapter! Until next time, Salani Kahle!


	5. Vicissitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patty's public disclosure results in some unusual outcomes, ultimately to the benefit of Arnold and Helga. But Hillwood has eyes everywhere...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

For what seemed like the first time ever, Helga Pataki was looking forward to getting to school. For sure, the lessons would still be the same interminable exercises in ennui. No doubt too that the lessons would invoke several fantasies involving trapped wolves gnawing off their trapped limbs to escape. But today would be different. Today she'd go to school knowing that Arnold was aware of her feelings. Today she'd go to school knowing that he was not necessarily averse to her affections. Today she'd go in the knowledge the two had at least built an understanding between them. A starting point. Something tangible. Something to build on.

And damn was she eager to start building!

Her eagerness was proudly on display. It was in the lightness of her steps. It was in the unforced smile with which she greeted Phoebe en route to purgatory. It was in the joy with which she recounted to her best friend the previous day's events in Arnold's room – minus, of course, the specifics of how she gained ingress.

"Oh my!" squeaked the diminutive one, at once surprised and ecstatic at the progress report. "So it seems you two have made significant headway! Thank goodness! I truly was fearing the worst!"

"Oh yeah!" replied the taller girl, the self-satisfaction pretty much slathered all over her face. She then added, rather absently: "I should have slapped him sooner…"

"Helga!" scolded Phoebe. "That remark is in such poor taste! You were just fortunate that Arnold has always had so much patience with you! Quite frankly it's downright astounding that he still was willing to even give you the time of day after that incident!"

"True," Helga conceded, her mood a bit more pensive. After some thought, she turned back to her best friend to ask: "Hey Pheebs, now that you mention it. You know, the thing about him having all the patience in the world for me no matter how terrible I was with him." – she hesitated, unsure of how to phrase her concern – "Do you think I should be reading more into that? I don't know, like maybe…something good could have happened so much sooner if we got on the same page a lot earlier?"

Now Phoebe was the one with the bigger smile as she suggested: "What I think, Helga, is that you should make _that_ the topic of your next discussion with him."

And Phoebe would for the next few seconds savor Helga's sudden muteness as the words of advice set in. During Helga's speechless assimilation, Phoebe took the opportunity to add: "I do have a confession though."

"Yes..?" asked Helga, suddenly wary of what was to follow.

"Well…" Phoebe havered before continuing with slightly more resolve. "I may have eased your transition with him somewhat."

"How so?" Helga followed up, no less wary.

"After you vacated the cafeteria, I reassured Arnold that you hadn't meant to strike him."

That seemed to put Helga at ease.

"Wait!" Phoebe blurted out to continue. "There's more. He still looked uncertain after that, so I needed to do some more explaining."

Helga looked now to be anticipating the worst.

"I…had to become a lot more…emphatic. So I followed up and let it slip to him that you cared too much about him for your strike to be anything other than unintended."

Now Helga took on an expression unreadable to her friend. Phoebe wasn't sure if she was processing anger, annoyance, or understanding.

"You do realize Phoebe," Helga answered eventually, her voice suspiciously neutral, "that I'd sometimes be lost without your wisdom and your intervention."

Understanding it was. _What a relief!_

" _Realizing!_ " she squeaked back.

* * *

It was only when Helga arrived at P.S. 118 when her lofty emotions were brought down a notch or three. The instant she stepped through the doors, she was reminded of her actions the previous day. Not from everyone, though. Some onlookers had probably either not been present at the time, while others had considered it no more than a bizarre distraction not worth dwelling on. Or maybe they had remembered what the girl in the pink dress had done to Big Patty and they were content not to provoke her.

Which was not to say that everyone had suddenly begun keeping their distance. There were remarks to be made her way.

"Such a pity, Helga!" Rhonda was the first to weigh in as the two passed each other in the corridor, causing the hoyden to stop and give the bellwether a particularly hairy eyeball.

"And to think," continued Rhonda in a grandiose, tragic-romantic tone, "Arnold is quite the catch and you could have had him all to yourself instead of putting him back on the market!"

"Listen up, Little Miss Scarlett," Helga responded venomously, for all the good it did her.

"Oh?" Rhonda cut her off, a bit too delighted for her own good. "Is that a contradiction you're forming? Did something happen since then? Did you two kiss and make up?"

And instantaneously, crimson became Helga's preferred color of blush, which did her even fewer favors against Rhonda.

"Oh. Em. _Gee!_ _IT'S TRUE!_ " Rhonda squealed excitedly, to the point of giddy hyperventilation.

Helga quickly traded embarrassment for annoyance and confusion to reply: "What's going on, Princess? Did you lock yourself in the tanning booth again?"

"I'm _merely_ following up on a rumor that you and Arnold have patched things up and are now quite lovey-dovey!" Rhonda justified her intrusion with an air of journalistic quasi-integrity. Again, she was doing Helga's temperament no favors, not that she seemed to care about the blonde girl's state of mind or her newly gained violent reputation. "You see, a juicy morsel came floating in this morning. _You_ , my dear Helga, were seen leaving Arnold's abode yesterday afternoon. Not only that, but you were seen…"

She paused to produce a little notebook and continued when she reached the desired page. "Aha! Here it is! ' _Hopping, skipping, and pirouetting along_ '!"

Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was next treated to Helga Pataki running through a wide spectrum of reactions. There were the initial disbelief and denial, followed by the numerous versions of the Helga-esque anger.

" _Bitch!_ " Helga cursed, with a strong hint of jaundice thrown into the mix for some extra flavor.

"Excuse me, _what?_ " Rhonda's expression was now hinting at having disturbed a sleeping bear. "Hey, don't go off on me like that. I am but a messenger! I am merely relaying to you what I myself was told!"

"You mean you didn't start this one?"

"I _wish_!"

"But you know who did, right?"

"Nobody in _my_ network!" Rhonda answered again.

"Quit with the runaround and just tell me!" Helga demanded in a menacing tone meant to instill dread, though Rhonda seemed unimpressed. In fact, she appeared to be finding Helga's attempt at strong-arming amusing at best, tedious at worst.

"Really, Helga!" she scoffed back. "What would Arnold say if he saw you picking on poor defenseless _Moi_?" she swooned in what was – to be fair – quite a decent rendition of a Southern Belle.

"And just what does Arnold have to do with this discussion?" responded Helga, only to judge from her counterpart's reaction that she had taken whatever bait that Rhonda had laid out.

"Why don't you explain what we've been discussing with him, seeing that he's right behind you."

Indeed he was, as Helga turned around to discover to her instant shock. "Hi Helga, Rhonda," he greeted. And while Helga was still fumbling for a response, Rhonda returned his greeting: "Oh, hello to you too, Arnold! Sorry that I can't stick around! But I'm sure I'd just be in your way anyway!"

With that, she spirited herself away from the pair. Despite the reconciliation from the previous day, Arnold and Helga were still acting apprehensively around each other in a more public environment. Their comfort levels weren't aided at all by the kids passing them and casting glances their way. Not saying anything, but looking as though expecting some degree of fireworks. After some difficult silence between the two, Arnold ventured forth with: "So…how's your morning been so far?"

He was surprised to see her huff in anger and respond with: "Let's just get to class, Footballhead!"

**xxXXXxx**

Bless the heart of Arnold Shortman!

In the course of her short walk to homeroom with him, Helga had found out that he was unaware of the rumor doing the rounds. Then again, she reckoned that was to be expected from someone who mostly saw the world as the most positive, most optimistic version of itself. Someone who would block out the murmurs and whispers that may have been conducted about him while not necessarily aimed his way.

Unfortunately, their time together en route to homeroom was too short for any decent exposition, but she promised him a proper discussion over the matter somewhere private after school. The need for a more private setting was made very apparent when the two entered the classroom of Mister Simmons to a wide array of rumor-savvy _OOOOOOO_ 's from their classmates. Said classmates had noted a very slight decrease in the two's social distance, which nonetheless was enough to move their perceived relationship from its previous designation (' _Distant Acquaintances_ ') to a new one (' _Ardent, Inseparable Lovers_ ').

Still, nothing that couldn't be quelled by a glowering unibrow that defied any and all takers to air their opinions.

"Still think my anger's a waste of time?" she whispered to Arnold almost imperceptibly as they made their way to their desks amidst a newly earned silence, causing the footballhead to crack an equally almost imperceptible smile despite himself.

The time in the class passed without much fuss. Simmons would lecture, explain, read, diagram, analyze, or demonstrate. The class body in turn would put in their best impression of caring about his efforts. Helga sought once to alleviate her boredom by way of the old reliable spitball. She aimed for Arnold. She was on the money, same as always. Arnold looked back at her to find not an annoyed expression of ' _What!_ ' but instead a playful one of ' _Who, me_?'. His only response was a wry smile her way and a shake of his head as he returned to Simmons's lesson.

_That's right, Bucko! Love me, love my habits!_

Maybe his reaction was as demonstrable a sign of progress between the two of them as could be realistically expected. At least, that's what she was allowing herself to believe. But that rumor still irked her; it needed to be addressed, pronto. A good thing then, that she knew whom to ask first.

_That bitch…_

* * *

"Nope. Wasn't me."

Lunchtime found Helga in the empty library. She'd wanted nothing more than to gorge herself on the cafeteria's offerings, given that she'd arrived starving at school and Phoebe's charity only went so far. But intel was more important than nourishment at the time, so here she was, giving Patty the third degree.

"What?"

And failing miserably by all appearances. Thus far, Patty had treated the blonde girl's presence with hardly any acknowledgement. Her salutation and subsequent answers comprised no more words than absolutely necessary. She was seated behind the desk, sorting and processing the returns before they'd be shelved.

"You heard me," Patty replied. "I heard the story. I just didn't think much of it."

To which Helga didn't know how to react. She was so sure that Patty was a solid suspect. Patty, for her part, had read Helga's initial suspicions and was now detecting her confusion.

"I work alone, remember?" Patty reminded her. "Besides, you really think I'd _want_ to go anywhere in town with _this?_ " – She motioned to her leg, still in its brace – "After the number you did on it? Damage to the muscle and tendons. It's enough of a schlep just getting _home_! Why would I want to make any unnecessary detours?"

Helga remained suspicious of Patty, though this time it was because the giantess's description of her injuries wasn't particularly bitter in its execution. In fact, it seemed she was putting the ordeal behind her.

_Or is that what you want me to think?_

"OK Patty, what gives?"

Patty remained her soft-spoken self as she queried back: "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Oh cut the crap!" Helga blurted out in an attempt to convey her seriousness to her sparring partner. Another unsuccessful attempt: all response she received from Patty was a smirk. "You think I'm still sore at the outcome of our fight?"

Which only served to agitate Helga even further: "Well you don't exactly look _thrilled_ about it! How come we're even _having_ this conversation?"

"Keep your voice down," shushed Patty with a finger pressed against her lips. "We're in a library, remember?"

"Whatever," conceded Helga before continuing at a more acceptable volume. "So how come you're not spoiling for round two?"

"Because you've already lost," countered Patty as she finished processing the last book before loading it on a trolley one stretched arm's length away. "You must realize by now that there's more than one way to beat someone." – Patty's voice then took on a more serious but still non-threatening edge – "Tell me, how often have you been looking over your shoulder since yesterday? You're wondering what everyone around you is whispering about, aren't you? Thinking they may be whispering about you and how weak you are to like Arnold, right? Worrying that they might just make a move on him just to be spiteful. It drives you crazy, doesn't it? So sad that you might have painted a bullseye of someone who's just…too…damn…important? And here's the _really_ sad part. I'll bet it doesn't even matter to them anymore that you were able to whup my ass."

And Patty must have relished the sight of Helga's dropping jaw. But wait, there was more! "Case in point. I overheard Maria complain to Connie in class about how – and I quote – 'he'd be happier with hot salsa instead of cold white sauce'. How about that, right? Even the Sixth Grade girls have him back on their radar now!"

Helga was left to seethe. _Damn you, Patty!_

"Look," Patty appeared to be changing the subject. "You want to continue talking? Take a walk with me." With that, she rose to her feet to gather her crutch. She then looked at Helga while motioning toward the trolley. " _Well?_ You expect me to push that thing in _this_ condition?"

And that's the story of how Helga Pataki got roped into helping Patricia Smith. Helga would push the trolley, following a three-legged Patty to wherever she was instructed, whereupon the elder girl would take a book and place it back on the shelf. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. In between pushing, stopping, and shelving, a whispered conversation had resumed.

"So what is it about Arnold that makes you so ashamed of having the hots for him, anyway?" Patty asked, her voice this time projecting sincere curiosity instead of hostility.

Helga remained silent at the question, suspicious that her – was Patty still to be considered a nemesis? – was still digging for dirt against her.

"Hey," Patty reminded her in a softer tone tending towards friendly, "as far as I'm concerned, we're even. You got me in the fight, I got you at lunch. And to be honest, right now I'm not really sure if that last one really ended up being bad for you!"

A pause to consider Patty's words followed before Helga whispered back her answer: "Because tough girls don't show weakness!"

The emotion accompanying her answer was a mixture of uncertainty and shyness, with excess bravado brought in as an attempt at compensation. Patty simply tsk-tsked at the response before narrowing her eyes at Helga.

"Pathetic!" she reprimanded. "Here's a guy who'll go through hell and back for you! You know the balls it took for him to put himself between me and you to end our fight? He sure as hell didn't do it for me, hurt as I was! He did it for _you_ , even when I was crying murder!"

"Pfft!" countered Helga. "Yeah right! He's Arnold! It's nothing special from him! He'll do it for everyone!"

"But will he put _himself_ in the firing line for just anyone?"

"Well…" Helga paused again for consideration, but Patty was done with the smaller girl's hemming and hawing and dodging. So she cut her off before so much as a syllable could leave her mouth. It did help that Patty still enjoyed an advantage over Helga in the physical presence department. Thus when the big girl placed a forceful hand on the smaller one's shoulder and looked her dead in the eye, it was enough to secure the latter's silence and her undivided attention.

"Look Helga," she began, her voice suggesting an internal struggle against what she was about to say. "Arnold wouldn't take such a risk for just anyone. That boy is head over heels for you. He just doesn't know it yet!"

"But—" Helga wanted to cross that statement the instant Patty let go of her.

"Hey, will you look at that?" – but unfortunately, Patty was already ahead of her – "We're done!"

She was pointing at the now empty trolley, a signal that Helga's time in the library – indeed, her time with Patty – had come to an end. Patty then concluded their interaction with: "Just park the trolley where you found it and thanks for the assist."

And that was it. Patty would entertain no further attempts to restart the conversation. The more insistent Helga became, the more officious Patty reacted in reminding her to behave in an orderly manner – they were in a library, after all! It finally took Helga's growling stomach reminding her of her immediate need for nourishment to make her leave the location.

But not before she offered one last parting shot, the nature of which would astound both girls for at least the rest of the day. "Thanks, Patty," she said with no clear ill will. "Um…take care, I guess."

Helga then ran to claim whatever paltry, allegedly culinary remainders awaited her at the cafeteria, the matter of who floated the rumor seemingly forgotten. As for Patty, she was more interested in just how a bitter and vicious fight could have led to the courteous discussion that had just occurred.

Hell, any eavesdropper might even have called it… _friendly!_ How did _that_ happen?

Maybe that guy in that movie was right: _You do not truly know someone until you fight them._

* * *

Nothing much else of any real significance happened for the rest of the day. At least, nothing that mattered. The topic of Arnold and Helga remained a hot one, despite having to compete with more recent stories and rumors. It was nowhere near hot enough, however, to discourage Helga from surreptitiously slipping a note inside Arnold's locker. _To hell with the rumor and who floated it_ , she reckoned to herself. _As if I'd let it stop this!_ In fact, her talk with Patty had lent a new perspective on her situation. _Now_ , whoever got this ball rolling had done her a favor as far as she was concerned.

The topic was certainly not hot enough either for Arnold to be discouraged when he read the note after classes were dismissed. Helga had asked for another chance for them to talk about…well… _them_. _Us And Where We Stand, Part II_ , the heading of the note read.

He was surprised at how much happier at the prospect he was than perhaps he should have been. Another chance to talk freely and frankly with Helga. He'd always thought her much more interesting than most any other girl. The way she could be so tough and yet also – at least when she was _forced_ to be – in touch with her emotions. It was all part of what made her fascinating: her contrasting nature. Here was a girl who'd profess profound hatred against him, yet could be called upon to help him in a pinch. There was also the fun they'd constantly share in countless group (mis)adventures or other social activities.

She truly was a girl who could slap him just as easily as she could profess her heart to him. God, did he want to get to know her better!

The meeting place was a bench situated in a remote corner in City Park. Quoth the note: _AND DON'T BE LATE THIS TIME!_

He was now walking to the location, eager at the prospect of what might come.

"Well, well! Hey, Arnold!" the voice came from behind in a familiar, derisive tone. He turned around to find Wolfgang and Edmund behind him. Arnold was wary of Wolfgang during the best of circumstances, and the timing of this encounter did nothing to abate his distrust of the bully.

"What do you guys want?" he responded non-committally.

"Now Edmund," Wolfgang turned to address his lackey, "is that a polite way to greet others? I mean, he's _Arnold_. He's supposed to be polite with everyone."

"Uh, I don't know, Wolfgang," Edmund havered back. "I've never heard him be friendly with us…"

"Shut up, Edmund!" Wolfgang shouted back, frustrated that his lieutenant had ruined the attempt to put Arnold on the back foot. Not that Arnold was in any way interested in whatever they had in mind. "Listen, Guys," the footballhead made it clear with his voice that the Fifth-Graders were annoying him, "I'm kinda in a hurry now. If you've got something to say, then say it!"

"OK OK!" Wolfgang scrambled to regain control of the conversation. "Is it true about you and the Pataki girl..?"

"Look, you heard the rumors," Arnold replied. "Believe what you want to!" He certainly wasn't going to explain himself, least of all to these two clowns.

"Well we _could_ , you know?" Wolfgang explained, hinting at knowing more than the average rumor participant. "But yesterday my boy Edmund here runs up to me with some disturbing info. He's scored some primo Swiss candy bars from one of Big Gino's dealers and he's heading back so we can divvy things up."

He then pointed to Edmund, who accepted the gesture as if it were a medal honoring him for an act of wartime bravery.

"You see," Wolfgang continued, "he says on the way back he saw Helga Pataki leave your place with the biggest smile he's ever seen on her face."

At that, Arnold flinched. He then narrowed his gaze toward his would-be tormentors: "You! _You_ started the rumor!"

Wolfgang again addressed Edmund: "Looky here! He doesn't deny that something happened between them yesterday! Mighty suspicious, wouldn't you say, Edmund?"

"Yeah!" Edmund responded, before asking his leader after a lengthy pause. "Wolfgang, something like what?"

While Wolfgang facepalmed in exasperation, a freshly flustered Arnold went on the defensive he'd sworn to avoid: "Wait, nothing happened! We just _talked!_ "

Wolfgang immediately latched on to Arnold's response and sprang back into action: "Oh is _that_ what it's called now?"

Arnold's reddening cheeks and shy stance was fuel for Wolfgang to press on with his advantage. This lousy Fourth-Grader always made him look bad in football and baseball. The little shit just wouldn't learn his place, so a chance to take him down a notch was a chance to be grasped wholeheartedly.

"Tell me, Arnold," Wolfgang pressed on. "What could you see in a freak like that?"

"Yeah, huh-huh! Freak!" Edmund weighed in with another insignificant contribution.

"Yeah, you've gone after Ruth and Maria before. What happened?" – oh was he enjoying this! – "Shot down so many times that even _Pataki's_ starting to look good now?"

"Listen, you two!" snapped Arnold. "I don't care what you've got to say about me, but leave Helga out of this!"

Arnold's rising anger was its own reward for the two Fifth-Graders. " _Ooooo_ , did we just hit a nerve there?" Wolfgang taunted. "You mean you actually _like_ that ugly, psycho little stick insect? Damn, Arnold, how desperate _are_ you?"

"Maybe you were right, Wolfgang," offered Edmund. "Maybe he likes being whipped by that freak!" Full disclosure, Edmund had mentioned a word between 'being' and 'whipped', which was drowned out to Arnold by the airbrakes of a passing truck. Once Edmund was done with his comment, he made a series of whipcrack sounds to emphasize his point. The same sounds Arnold had heard the previous day in the cafeteria.

"Nah!" countered Wolfgang to his underling. "I don't think she has anything like that to whip him with!"

What followed was raucous, self-congratulatory laughter as Wolfgang and Edmund basked in their sophisticated wit. The laughter lasted for as long as it took Arnold to slide up to a now-distracted Wolfgang and deliver a technically perfect, full-power roundhouse kick to the bigger boy's floating ribs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done with another chapter. Dear readers, my gratitude for your time and your attention knows no bounds. I hope you found this chapter as enjoyable as the preceding ones. Please provide feedback if you feel so moved. The stats for this story give it one of the fastest-growing readership figures of all my stories, so I reckon I must be doing something right. Whether that's the case or not, I'd enjoy reading your opinions.
> 
> As for the notes...
> 
> The scene I most enjoyed writing was the Helga/Patty scene in the library. Here I wanted to explore Patty's character a bit more. I mean, she has at least two years over Helga, so she's had two extra years to accumulate more wisdom and street smarts. Why not have her put it all to good use?
> 
> I also had fun with the bit in the classroom. I wanted to give an idea of how Arnold's and Helga's perceptions of one another could change now that they are aware of each other's feelings. The spitball seemed as good an example as any as an indicator that both were willing to take the small steps that needed to be taken.
> 
> As for Rhonda, it feels a bit weird not writing her as a supporting character instead of the female lead. I see her not necessarily as an enemy of Helga, but as someone who knows which of her buttons to push in order to get what she wants. All the while, she'll do what she can to maintain the peace with Helga, or otherwise neutralize Helga's violent tendencies.
> 
> As for that movie with that guy in it. I watched it not too long ago and was amazed at how I wasn't nearly as disappointed by it as I was when I watched all those tears back on IMAX. It really has aged very well indeed.
> 
> Nothing more to say other than to reveal this chapter's Deezer list.
> 
> Loving Every Minute – Lighthouse Family  
> It Must Be Love – Madness  
> Erase/Rewind – The Cardigans
> 
> And so that will do for this chapter. See you next time and take care.


	6. Imperfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: Helga and Patty seem to reconcile after Patty offers her take on Shortaki. Meanwhile, have Wolfgang and Edmund pushed Arnold too far?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

Arnold's right roundhouse kick landed true on Wolfgang's left floating ribs. And to exacerbate the bigger boy's immediate distress, Arnold didn't snap his kick nor did he land it with the foot. Instead, the impact was with the shin, plus he followed through with his hip for a Thai variation of the kick to impart maximum damage. The result was instantaneous with Wolfgang wincing from the impact as he gathered and nursed his ribs. Arnold stayed on him for a follow-up attack, a similar kick aimed now at Wolfgang's left thigh. Same impact too, this time causing Wolfgang to hop around while wondering why he could suddenly no longer put weight on the leg. Arnold had more strikes planned for his would-be tormentor, only to be thwarted…

" _You bastard!_ "

…by Edmund, who reacted quickly enough to seize Arnold while he was still focused on Wolfgang. He grabbed the fourth-grader from behind, right arm around the neck to subdue him. Arnold immediately started squirming violently, grabbing on to Edmund's arm and trying to free himself from the bigger boy's surprisingly strong grip.

"Wolfgang!" Edmund called to his hurt friend. "Let's get this little shit to the alley and teach him some manners!"

He didn't wait for his boss's approval as he bundled a very slippery Arnold down a nearby alley. "Hold still!" he ordered as he swung Arnold repeatedly by the neck to force his cooperation while Arnold still held doggedly on to the arm. Arnold was waiting for an opening which came after a counterclockwise swing from his opponent. As soon as his feet were on the ground, he rode the momentum to step forward with his right leg and very quickly drop the right shoulder. It succeeded: Arnold executed a shoulder throw that flung Edmund very quickly over the shoulder and forced him to break the hold. The impact was as hard and unforgiving as the concrete surface on which Edmund landed, affording no time for him to break his fall.

Arnold turned his attention back to Wolfgang, whom he was surprised to see had recovered from the initial kicks. He was even more surprised to see the bully charging in while winding up for a roaring right overhand punch. Arnold didn't have time for evasion, so the punch caught him on his left cheek and momentarily wobbled him. Time enough for Wolfgang to follow up with a swing that resembled a very crude left hook but was no less effective. It landed on the footballhead's right eye socket, rendering him even wobblier. Wolfgang was aware of his advantage as he attempted to dominate Arnold with a vicious flurry of grunt-fueled left and right punches. Although few, if any, of Wolfgang's strikes could be termed proper martial arts techniques, they were landing hard and accurately, thus getting the job done. Arnold could only raise his guard to protect his face; he had to trust the rest of his body's conditioning to hold up against Wolfgang's attack.

Soon though, a gap emerged for Arnold to counter with a left front kick which he thrust deep into Wolfgang's breadbasket. Wolfgang was down, back on one knee, severely winded by the kick that had caught him unawares. Arnold followed up with a left forearm strike to the alpha bully's right cheek, followed by a right elbow uppercut to his chin. The desired result was attained: Wolfgang was down for another count, this time on his back.

Edmund then denied Arnold any respite by again grabbing the smaller fighter around his hips from behind. "Let's see how much _you_ like the concrete, you little punk!" he taunted his opponent as he hoisted him off the ground before twisting 180 to drop him face-first on the ground below. Arnold had barely the time to cover his face with his forearms and let those take the brunt of the impact. The impact stung his forearms to high heaven, but at least his face had been spared. Plus…Edmund must have been sure of a job well done as he was beginning to stand up. Doing so created a gap between the two which Arnold exploited with repeated right elbow strikes to whatever target was present. If nothing else, he managed to hasten Edmund's dismount. And in turn, Arnold was able to transition back to his feet equally as quickly. As the two combatants stared each other down, Edmund found the seconds for another taunt: "All this for that loser Pataki girl?"

"SHE'S NOT A LOSER!" Arnold yelled back. To Edmund's instant regret, the footballhead was back in his face to deliver a left-right punch combination – left to the liver, right to the opposite kidney. To cap off the combination, Arnold threw a spinning right crescent kick with the side of his foot crashing ever so satisfyingly against the right-hand side of Edmund's face.

" _SHE'S NOT A LOSER!_ " he repeated to his out-on-his-feet opponent. He said no more for he was interrupted when the galvanized steel trash can lid struck him on the back of his head, doubling him over.

"Yeah, how's that gonna help you now?" scoffed Wolfgang as he followed up with an equally hard strike down across Arnold's spine. That blow flattened Arnold on the ground, but Wolfgang wasn't done yet.

"Time you learned some respect, _Arnold_!" the fifth-grader grunted as he lifted the lid above his head. He then drove the edge of the lid hard on the back of Arnold's upper left leg. Wolfgang took in Arnold's response – a violently spasmodic _"YEAAARGH!"_ – and he was pleased. But one strike wasn't enough, so he struck the leg again. Similar result: _"AAAARRRGH!"_ while rolling away and clutching the injured leg.

"Hey Wolfgang, let me hit him too!" a now lucid Edmund interrupted his leader. "I owe him some payback too!"

"Screw you!" Wolfgang declined. "He's down because of me, not you! He's _mine!_ "

"Screw me? Screw _you_ , Wolfgang!" argued Edmund. "You only got him down because _I_ pulled him away from your sorry ass!"

"Hey, do you want some of what he just got? Shut up!"

A short argument followed in which the participants argued the pros and cons of Edmund getting in some licks of his own. It then came to an abrupt halt as the two witnessed what they had thought was impossible: Arnold was back on his feet. Not too stable and heavily favoring the left leg, but nonetheless on his feet.

"Well, well, well!" mocked Wolfgang. "I didn't know you were such a glutton for punishment, Arnold. What's wrong? The crazy girl making you do crazy things? She infected you with her own crazy?"

"She's. Not. _Crazy!_ " Arnold's voice rasped through the alley.

"Oh?" spoke Edmund for the duo. "And what are you going to do about it now, Hopalong?"

Mere seconds later, both he and Wolfgang would regret that utterance. Despite his infirmity, Arnold was still quick enough to close the gap between his tormentors. Wolfgang was fast too, fast enough for another swing from his right with the trash can lid. Arnold was faster as he saw Wolfgang's commitment to the blow and was able to weave under it to the bully's blindside.

The footballhead was no longer in any condition for another protracted skirmish, and so had to end this next round as quickly as possible. Wolfgang wasn't going to make it an easy goal; he was winding up for a backhand follow-through with the lid. Arnold saw this strike coming too, only this time he was ready with a counter. The counter was a thrusting side kick aimed at the side of Wolfgang's right knee. The kick was successful; it found its mark and it dropped Wolfgang loudly and painfully back to one knee, partially turning him away from Arnold. Doing so also made him drop the lid. _Still_ , he refused to yield!

He vocalized as much: "No way I'm losing to a pathetic little _fourth-grader_!"

He followed up the declaration with a desperate, last-ditch swing with his left arm which he hoped Arnold wouldn't see coming. _Wrong!_ In one deft move, Arnold blocked the attempt with his right arm while simultaneously striking the bicep with a left hammerfist. Instant result: another pained yelp from Wolfgang as his entire left arm first juddered intensely before going completely limp. _Time to end this_ , resolved Arnold as he put his all behind a howling stiff-armed right cross that found its mark on the bigger boy's sternum. The impact rendered Wolfgang breathless as he dropped flat on the ground, clutching his chest and gasping feverishly for any available breath.

That left a nearby Edmund, who was doing Arnold a favor by standing mouth agape in shock and awe at how his boss, his alpha, had been felled by a weakling. Edmund was so taken in that he afforded Arnold a prime opportunity to end the fight. Arnold was thus able to close in quickly for as hard a kick as possible between the lackey's legs. The kick elicited an intense yowl of anguish from Edmund before he dropped to the ground, scrotum in hand, sputtering bile and spittle and torrents of agonized gibberish.

"She's. _Not._ _Crazy!_ " repeated Arnold, his work done. "You _hear_ me? She's _not crazy!_ "

Arnold felt there was more to be said, so he went back to the still-incapacitated Wolfgang to lift him up by his collar and get right into his face. "Now listen here!" he began. "Helga's not crazy! She's not a freak! You don't know her! You don't _deserve_ to know her!"

There was nothing subtle or nuanced about Arnold's delivery. He was shouting his message at an ear-piercing volume, shaking Wolfgang vigorously every other word. He had more still to say but for the confused, slightly fearful voice coming from the alley entrance.

"Arnold..?"

**xxXXXxx**

School had been more interesting today than most other previous days, but it was over and now there was a much more important matter to address. She'd slipped the note in Arnold's locker, the invitation to meet her in City Park to talk.

That was it: just to _talk_.

It was so strange. All this time she had fantasized about the day Arnold would return her feelings. It would be bliss! They'd hold hands, they'd kiss, they'd…well, they'd…uh…well…whatever she had in mind, it would most likely have her girlhood all of a tremble.

_Now,_ however. He wasn't necessarily in love with her, but he was now aware of her feelings and it didn't repulse him. In fact, she would say he was relieved to know that she didn't hate him and was dying to get to know her better. And truth be told, she couldn't have been any happier. His willingness to engage with her meant so much more to her than any of her age-inappropriate fantasies. For now at least…

Arnold's eagerness to bond with her was what spurred Helga Pataki along her way to meet him in the park. All she could focus on was the destination, nothing else. Not the presence of her fellow pedestrians, nor that of any other passer-by. The sounds of traffic and of daily afternoon life were also being drowned out. All she heard was Arnold in her mind. Conversations past, conversations still to come.

"She's. _Not._ _Crazy!_ "

Wait a minute. Was that Arnold's voice coming from the alley she was passing?

"You _hear_ me? She's _not crazy!_ "

It was! Only he sounded differently. It sounded emotional…manic…violent. Not at all like Arnold. She still had to confirm for herself as she set foot into the alley. What she saw took her aback very quickly. There was a beaten-up Arnold, standing over a worse-off Wolfgang and Edmund. Edmund was writhing on the ground, unable to speak from the pain he was in. Arnold was meanwhile working Wolfgang over, yelling in his face while shaking him by the collar.

"Helga's not crazy!" she heard the footballhead proclaim. "She's not a freak! You don't know her! You don't _deserve_ to know her!"

Helga was conflicted by what she was seeing.

Arnold: the sweetest boy she had ever known. Had he done all this? Had he done this because of her? Because of something those two jerks had said about her? She should have been flattered that he'd stand up for her, but doing so had left him being less than the familiar Arnold and it scared her. For all the thoughts and emotions jumbling within her, she could only muster one word.

"Arnold..?"

Her words got his attention and once their eyes met, his rage vanished and was replaced by something akin to shame. Their eye contact lingered uncomfortably, neither one knowing what to say.

"They were wrong, Helga!" insisted a suddenly contrite Arnold. "They said…they said you were a freak. That you were ugly. But you're _not!_ "

Helga watched him drop Wolfgang before staggering over to her. _Oh my god_ , she shuddered at his pronounced limp, _did they work him over that badly?_ He kept approaching her, step by slow, agonizing step.

"You're _not!_ " he continued. One step, one sentence. "They don't know you. The _real_ you!" – his emotion was building the more he spoke – "You're smart! You're strong! You've got a kind heart! A _beautiful_ heart! I'm so lucky that I know you!"

It was too much for Helga. These words. Words from Arnold confirming his thoughts about her. Words from his heart! She should have been ecstatic by them. So why was she not? His words were sincere, of that there was no doubt. But they were coming from somewhere desperate. They weren't motivated by love, but by shame. He wasn't trying to proclaim affection; he was begging for her forgiveness. Forgiveness for having her see this ugly side of him.

_Is this really what he's capable of?_

Asking herself that question, realizing its validity. It scared her what the answer might be, that he could be as capable as she was of resorting to violence. Thus, for each step he took toward her, she instinctively recoiled away.

"Helga, what's the matter?" Arnold stopped to ask. "Why do you look so scared? Helga, I know it looks bad, but I'm not going to hurt you!"

She had no response. "I…" she attempted one. "I…I…I…"

It became too much of an ask as she instead turned to run away.

"No, wait! Helga! _Helga!_ " he shouted after her. She heard his voice but couldn't bring herself to register it."

**xxXXXxx**

"Yeah, sucks to be you, Arnold!"

The jeer had come from Wolfgang, who stood unsteadily while propping up Edmund. Both of them were sporting fresh marks from the fight. Wolfgang's marks were more prominent, comprising a swollen cheek, a fat lip, not to mention the bleeding from his mouth. He appeared also to be missing a front tooth.

Despite everything, Wolfgang refused to shut up and was hellbent on getting in the last word.

"What's the matter? Didn't you just defend your lady's honor?" he continued heckling Arnold through bloody teeth. Next came the derisive laughter. Which he knew he could do because there was no more fight left in any of the three, be their reasons physical, mental, or emotional.

"You thought you were so much better than the rest of us, _didn't_ you?" continued Wolfgang. "The great and noble Arnold, who always looks for the peaceful way out! Well guess what, even you will drop down to our level! How does it feel, Arnold! How does it feel to have the power to not take shit from anyone?"

Wolfgang was interrupted by a sudden cough that led to him spitting out a bit of blood before he continued.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" he said through heavy breathing and a wicked, bloodstained grin. "It gets you respect, _right!_ "

"Too bad your girlfriend doesn't think so!" Edmund weighed in, despite his voice still carrying the pain from Arnold's kick to the groin.

"That's right, Arnold," Wolfgang picked up from that statement. "Were we really worth it? Did you really hate us more than you liked her?"

And the laughter resumed, though Arnold had no urge to continue the fight. He didn't even want to shut them up; he knew that there was merit to their twisted logic. There was no longer any reason to remain in the same proximity as them, so Arnold began his slow shamble back home. He went back to drowning them out of his ears and mind. He did, however, allow himself a modicum of comfort by thinking of all the pain and distress that awaited Wolfgang and Edmund once their adrenaline had subsided. For that at least, he allowed himself a wry smile.

* * *

That evening, Arnold was lying in bed without much recall of how exactly he got there. He vaguely remembered the slow shuffle back to The Sunset Arms, but not the exact route he took, nor anyone he might have met or greeted along the way. There was also his grandparents lambasting him for his recklessness in getting into a fight. That was before he explained the reason for the fight, after which he had Grandma's immediate support, sympathy, and vetoing powers over Grandpa. And in another blur of activity: dinner; showering; first aid; maybe some homework; bed. He was unsure about the exact order in which these occurred, though the certainty remained that they _did_ occur.

The present found him struggling to sleep. Quite the paradox, given how stiff and tired he felt after the hard knocks he'd taken. His music was no help either. He knew his situation was bad when not even the soothing rhythms of Norman Brown were working their magic. With sleep eluding him, he resorted to staring through the skylight to marvel at the clear, moonlit sky.

That's when she came into frame. It was Helga, on the roof by the skylight. There was nothing different in what she was wearing, though she now had a rucksack slung over her shoulders.

He looked up at her, she looked down at him. Her expression conveyed nothing discernible. He might have expected her to be angry with him, maybe even disappointed, after witnessing him during the aftermath. But if she was any of those, she gave no hint. Helga broke off the staredown and went to work. Arnold watched her tinker with the locking mechanism of the skylight's entry point and easily open it from the outside. The casualness with which she performed the feat, together with her neutral expression throughout the task, spoke of her not caring about his approval or lack thereof. He continued watching as she lowered herself through the opening, impressed that she could know exactly where the footholds were even in the dim light.

Their silence continued as she climbed down the wall. By the time she reached the bed, Arnold had – painfully and with much effort – seated himself on the side to give her space. Helga used the space to drop on to the mattress and launch herself on to the floor. From there, she walked over to his desk to appropriate the chair. Silence prevailed still as she moved the chair to face the bed. She then placed the rucksack alongside the chair and took a seat.

Only once all of these actions had taken place, were the first words spoken.

"You know, Footballhead?" Helga began plainly. "We never got around to having that talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done with another chapter, dear readers! Your support for the last chapter was simply overwhelming and I cannot thank you enough. At the same time, I hope to have met your expectations with this chapter as well.
> 
> So with the formalities done, on now to the notes:
> 
> All of the moves I had Arnold use on Wolfgang and Edmund were chosen with realism in mind. Arnold is still smaller than the two of them and a protracted fight would not be to his disadvantage. So I chose a repertoire of moves designed to inflict as much damage for as little effort as possible by targeting key points and nerve clusters. I'm sure Gertie would have taught him as much. Also, the elbow strikes are traditional karate moves. As for the shoulder throw, I do believe Gertie would have taught Arnold a few throws just in case an attacker were to get close enough to grab him.
> 
> As for Wolfgang and Edmund, I portrayed them as opportunistic brawlers. Which wouldn't make them any less dangerous. I mean, even the most technically inept punch or kick has value if it is hard enough and it connects. There is also their size advantage over Arnold. Finally, while neither may necessarily have any formal martial arts training, I was assuming that they have actual fighting experience. After all, knowing a martial art isn't always the same as knowing how to fight. Put it all together, and I'd say the odds were slightly against Arnold going into the fight.
> 
> The last scene is a riff on the ending of "Helga Blabs It All" where she exits the room in full view of the occupants without a word being spoken.
> 
> And the reason I'm comfortable having Arnold take multiple shots with a trash can lid? "24 Hours to Live" in which he uses two lids on himself as cymbals. So I reckoned he'd be able to get up after Wolgang's ambush.
> 
> And now for this chapter's Deezer list:
> 
> Control – Unknown Brain  
> Angels – Dink  
> Swashbucklin' in Brooklyn – Fun Lovin' Criminals  
> The Extremist – Joe Satriani
> 
> And another chapter concludes. See you next time and stay safe.


	7. 7. (Re)conciliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: Arnold bests Wolfgang and Edmund in hand-to-hand combat. But is he really the winner?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

"You know, you're not looking _too_ bad for someone who tangled with two – not one, but _two_ – fifth-graders," observed Helga with two parts concern, one part praise.

"Really?" Arnold replied. "You want to trade places?"

To demonstrate his point, he lifted up one side of his sleepshirt. It was still relatively early in the evening, so the sun hadn't yet fully set. Thus there was still light enough for Helga to make out the welts on Arnold's bare skin, as well as the shiner slowly developing on his left eye: mementos of Wolfgang's flurry of punches. Helga gave his display a once-over before proclaiming: "No thanks, Footballhead. Already had my fill from Patty."

"Actually," Arnold explained, "treating them was way worse. Once Grandma got a look at them, she made me take a bath in a tub filled with ice. Not fun! At least it did wonders for my leg."

"Oh yeah, you _did_ have a bad limp in the alley," she recalled. "What was _that_ all about?"

"Wolfgang and a trash can lid," he answered.

" _OUCH!_ " she winced in solidarity. "Whatever made you want to tangle with those two must have been _really_ important to you!"

They shared a brief, nervous chuckle while Arnold lowered his shirt. Helga then added: "Yeah, the band-aids seem rather trivial compared to an ice bath." For emphasis, she pointed to the one on her brow where Patty had headbutted her. "But hey, they're doing their job. And quite nicely too."

"That's good to know," Arnold replied, genuinely happy for her.

"By the way," Helga resumed, "that's also why I was sure you'd still be awake."

"Oh _did_ you now?" Arnold smirked back at her.

"No, I assure you, Footballhead, it's much more innocent than that!" Helga insisted in a detached voice conveying neither shame nor fluster. "I'll bet you're feeling exactly how I felt after Patty. Body sore from top to bottom and just wanting to sleep until the next ice age…" – she paused for dramatic effect and to accept Arnold's nod of agreement – "but somehow the brain is saying no way, I can keep on going! Long story short, you're exhausted but you just can't sleep."

Another smile from Arnold, which Helga returned.

"So…what better time for…" ventured Arnold, not really wanting to complete the sentence.

"Yeah…what better time for…" repeated Helga.

The air between them wasn't tense so much as it was skittish. Even before their staredown following Arnold's fight, there had already been plenty to unpack regarding them and where they stood. The fight, both realized, had complicated matters greatly. Well, complicated or not, the matter simply _had_ to be addressed.

Yet all Arnold and Helga had been doing was making small talk, circling each other really, each one waiting for the other to make the first move.

"OK, listen up, Footballhead!" Helga adopted a much more serious demeanor as she launched herself toward the elephant in the room. "I take it your fight with Dumb and Dumber started because of something they said about me, right?"

Arnold appeared to consider his response very carefully before he eventually replied: "Helga, you gotta understand. I don't care what Wolfgang thinks about me. I don't care what any of his friends think about me. I don't care when they talk trash about me. But today they started badmouthing _you_." – he paused, uncomfortable with what he was about to relay – "He called you a freak and a crazy person. And I don't know…it felt to me like he had gone too far and—"

"And you went ahead and decked him good," interrupted Helga.

"Yeah, I felt something inside me snap. Next thing I know, all I wanted was to make him pay!"

That last sentence came out powerfully enough to unsettle both Arnold and Helga. Now it was Helga's turn for careful contemplation before she gave a response.

"Still, that was a lot you unleashed on them," she began, still unsure of how to proceed. "It's just…to be calm one moment – and I _know_ you were your calm, normal self at school today – then go all Bruce Lee on two goons whom you've done a stellar job of ignoring since beginning at P.S. 118."

She saw that she still had his attention and that he hadn't become defensive.

"I believe you when you say you snapped, but no way was that a spur-of-the-moment thing," she explained with no judgment. "That was rage that was building up over time. And trust me, I know a thing or two about anger boiling over!"

Arnold smiled faintly at her despite the overall seriousness of the matter before offering an explanation. "Look, they can say what they want to about me, I don't care. I just block it out. Now when they mentioned _you_ , that was going too far!"

"Me specifically?" Helga asked for clarity.

"Yeah," confirmed Arnold.

Helga didn't appear to be gladdened by what she had just heard. If anything, her expression had veered toward confusion with growing hints of annoyance. "Why me, Arnold?" she asked in her confused/annoyed state. "It's not like I treated you any better than they did. In fact," – she paused as if to amend her last statement – "I treated you much worse than those two goons ever did. The open hatred, the bullying, the badmouthing! Are you saying I was only ever one wrong word away from getting what _they_ got today?"

" _No!_ " Arnold insisted most emphatically and most immediately.

"I don't believe you!" she retorted, her annoyance building still. "Are you telling me that since Urban Tots, you've never, not once, _ever_ had thoughts floating in you about punching me in the mouth? And I want the truth, Arnold. If at any time you thought I was being a total bitch, then say it. I want to know!"

"What's it matter if I was thinking it?" Arnold retaliated, his own annoyance beginning to surface. "At least I didn't _act_ on it!"

"Oh how very noble indeed!" Helga clapped back with a pretend aristocratic accent. "So you bottle it up for all those years. And big surprise, something sets you off and next we know…Wolfgang and Edmund! Arnold, that could easily have been me! I mean…one wrong word, one spitball too many...These thoughts flashed through my mind in the alley this afternoon. And you know what? It scared me. _You_ scared me!"

"It would never have come to that!" Arnold insisted.

"Oh? And just how can you be so certain?" Helga challenged back.

"You were worth It!" he blurted out. Then, recalling her outburst to Patty in the hall: "You're. Just. Too. Damn. Important. To. Me!"

"Oh, _spare_ me the sentiment!" Helga fought back, clearly unimpressed by his answer. "You're way too late to impress me with how far you're willing to go, Bucko!"

With that, she undid her pigtails and let her hair flow down her back. In a further move recalling actions from two days prior, she brought her hair over her left shoulder to cover her left eye. Arnold remained silent throughout these actions of hers, the better for her to carry on with her point.

"Remember Cecille? She was just so that I could get close to you and maybe find out what you thought about me. And she's not even the craziest example!"

She returned her hair to behind her back, then grabbed the rucksack, which she opened and then rummaged through with both hands. She produced a quite frankly bizarre item which she held up for his inspection. It appeared to be an effigy modeled after his head. It was made of what looked like—

"Old chewing gum," confirmed the blonde unibrow. "Specifically, old chewing gum _you_ left behind."

She left it at that as she watched him become conflicted over whether to be flattered, disturbed, or outright disgusted. Maybe he was considering all three responses. But before he could vocalize anything, she was on to him.

"And we're not done yet," she warned. "This is but one example of what my love for you made me do. The skylight?" – she pointed up at the entry point – "That wasn't my first time. How do you think I got in here yesterday?"

The question was grounds for concern in Arnold, and Helga knew it from his change in expression. "That's right, Arnoldo! Still think I'm worth it? Let's just remind ourselves of the transgressions I've confessed to so far, shall we? There's stalking and deception just to get close to you. There's making models of your head from chewing gum for me to worship. Note: that's 'models', _plural_. There's the aforementioned breaking and entering into your room, _more_ than twice I'll have you know."

The way she spoke of her past actions didn't suggest outright shame or contrition; throughout the disclosure, there was also a sense of dignity and honor to which she was doggedly clinging. There was more still that could be disclosed, but she gathered from his reaction that she had made her point sufficiently.

"It's pathetic, isn't it?" she thus lamented, her dignity beginning to slip slightly. "That _this_ is the girl you were relieved to hear didn't hate you. That _this_ is the girl you were willing to take on Wolfgang and Edmund for. The girl who loved you, hated you, and yet you always had time and patience for her."

"Wait a minute! Time out, please!" intervened Arnold, his voice stern but not hostile. The suddenness of his interjection threw Helga for a loop and provided a long enough opening for him to continue. "Just so that we're clear…you were too ashamed to even make nice with me, but impersonating another girl to get close to me was fine." – his agitation was growing steadily – "And so was breaking into my room. I mean… _why?_ "

His outburst put Helga back on the defensive. "Like any of that matters now! But if you _must_ know, it's because you and I have different moral compasses. You have your idea of the greater good, I have mine!"

"Yeah? And just what was this greater good of yours? What was your endgame?" Arnold's agitation hadn't subsided, yet strangely neither had it escalated. Helga took his reaction to mean that his patience with her might still be intact, albeit strained now that she'd revealed more of the moral morass through which her obsession with him had guided her.

"Endgame," she stoically repeated that last word of his. "You want to know what my endgame was. You want to know what the ultimate goal was for all my actions for and against you! What, it wasn't obvious to you?"

"Well, no it wasn't!" he sharply rebutted. "I mean, you read in the tabloids of people doing a _fraction_ of what you said you did. All because they say they love someone! And the endings are always bad! You asked how close you were to me striking you. Well, how close was _I_ from being a missing person, or some John Doe?"

" _What?_ No, _never!_ " now Helga was even more on the defensive, positively shocked that he'd even broach such a topic. "I loved you…I _love_ you! Too much to even think about harming you!"

"But Helga, that doesn't make _sense!_ "

"What? That I, Helga Pataki, am actually capable of loving someone?" she scoffed, the incredulity thick in her voice.

"Not _that!_ " Arnold corrected. "I know you're capable of loving, I know you've got a beautiful, kind heart. I know that being a Pataki makes such things feel shameful to you. But it's wrong! _You're_ wrong! And your opinion…well, it's just… _stupid!_ "

But no, Helga wasn't about to be told off on matters of the heart, least of all by someone as emotionally dense as Arnold! Case in point: "Ha! _This_ from someone who waited for me to get the snot beaten out of me, then publicly humiliated, before finally deciding to have a heart-to-heart with me!"

"Helga, that's—"

But she was on a roll: "Oh pipe down! How do I even know that you feel for me even half – no, no, let's make it a quarter – of what I feel for you? Or have you only ever pitied me? That must have been it, right? It's always been about pitying me! Why else would you even deign to offer me your umbrella back at Urban Tots?"

Arnold's eyes lit up in recognition of that event. "You remember that?" he asked with no small amount of hopefulness, cutting through her ranting.

"Remember?" she replied. " _Ha!_ ' _Remember_ ', he says! I consider it no less than a turning point in my life! Being shown a beacon of hope among all the ugliness in humanity. Too bad you just saw me as just another one of your charity cases!"

Arnold's eyes then glinted with indignance the instant he heard her accusation. So much so that as soon as Helga noticed the change, she went silent. And not for the first time was she fretting that she'd taken matters too far with her beloved. And neither for the first time was she scared of what his reaction would be.

"You really think I see you as someone to be sorry for?" he began, sounding profoundly offended that she'd even _suggest_ he'd acted according to her accusation. "You really believe I think _that_ little of you? Helga, when you are wrong…you are _so_ wrong! You want to know the truth about Urban Tots?"

She didn't answer verbally. Instead, she nodded wide-eyed and sheepishly.

"Right, now let me tell you this…"

**xxXXXxx**

_He saw her walking along the sidewalk. He couldn't see her face; her back was turned toward him. But it was the way she was walking with her head and shoulders slumped forward: she was sad, very sad. And she didn't have a rain jacket or even an umbrella for the falling rain._

" _Gwampa! Stop now! Stop now!"_

_And as they were close to the Urban Tots entry anyway, his grandfather obliged and brought the Packard to a standstill. He still had to move quickly to catch up with the girl, but he did and was also able to lift the umbrella over her head. She first looked up at the umbrella, then at him._

_She had mud all over her front, and nobody seemed to care. Then he saw her eyes and how very sad they were. He knew that look of sadness all too well. It was how he felt when he'd cry himself to sleep at night because he missed his mommy and daddy. Was it the same with this pretty girl? Did she also not have a mommy and daddy? Is that why she was so sad?_

_She looked like she needed a friend. He would be her friend so she wouldn't be so sad about not having a mommy and daddy. But she was now looking at him and he had to say something nice to her._

" _Hi. Nice bow!"_

" _Huh?" she said back._

" _I like your bow because it's pink like your pants."_

_It really was the best he could do, but at least she didn't look so sad anymore as he headed to enter the building. He wasn't sure how he'd fared with her, but hopefully he'd cheered her up. That would be good. Maybe now she would become his friend._

**xxXXXxx**

Helga remained silent in the wake of the hidden details Arnold had revealed of their first encounter. It hadn't been an act of pity; he genuinely tried to reach out to her and be the first friend she'd ever have known. Someone who would give a damn if something bad would happen to her, someone who would be glad for her successes. Hell, someone who would accept her!

"But of course you know what happened after that," Arnold reflected to Helga back in the present tense. "I gave you my crackers after Harold stole yours, then the teasing started and suddenly you were ashamed to be around me."

Helga became uncomfortable as she recalled that unpleasant memory. But what she wanted to say, needed saying: "Yeah, that's the same way I felt in the cafeteria when Patty blabbed on us. I only realize now how street smart she really is. A few words from her and I go from Helga the Conqueror to the scared little girl back in Urban Tots. Same situation, same decision to make, and what do I do? I take the easy way out."

"Then you're _really_ not going to like this," Arnold started again.

**xxXXXxx**

_After Helga went from being the runt to the class bully, Arnold couldn't help but wonder if he was in any way responsible. But how? Did he come on too strong when he offered his umbrella to her? Did he say something wrong to her?_

_He feared he might never know the reason. One of the few things he could glean about her was that she did indeed have a mommy and daddy. She never seemed very happy about it, though. Maybe she needed a friend now more than she ever did._

_So he tried winning her friendship again. Trying extra hard in Art to impress her. Trying to greet her in the mornings again and be extra nice to her. No luck: all he got from her were snubs and disdain. From Urban Tots all the way to P.S. 118._

_In P.S. 118, he'd try all sorts of activities to get her attention, from RC boat racing to competitive eating. He'd also try a little harder for their baseball and football teams. For the former, he'd practice hitting the ball that little bit farther, earning him a reputation of being quite the slugger. For the latter, he worked hard to optimize the group's talents so that they were competitive even against bigger and stronger teams. Well, she_ _**did** _ _notice these particular talents, but all that came of it was her taking his talent for granted in any given game._

_If they won:_ _**Big deal, it's what we expect from you!** _

_If they lost:_ _**Way to go, Footballhead!** _

_Off the sports field, things weren't much better. She'd make her distaste plainly known to anyone who'd listen. Though from time to time she would let her guard down and they'd have some fun times together as well as some rather exciting (mis)adventures._

_The haunted train._

_Movies as part of a bigger group._

_The camping trip._

_Wheezin' Ed._

_Saving Mighty Pete._

_Hell, even that time they were stuck on the subway was the source of much laughter nowadays._

_But no. Just when it looked like she was warming up to him, she'd revert to her combative self and treat him poorly. And to be honest, after years of being led on, he was ready to give up. Then one day…_

**xxXXXxx**

"When I heard that Patty was setting up to beat you up…" Arnold tried explaining.

"I see," Helga intervened, her tone now much more subdued. "So you felt the need to help me again. Just another attempt to get my attention."

"It was more than that," Arnold corrected. "It was like…it was like getting you out of that mess was the most important thing to me. Nothing mattered more."

Helga's eyes and heart were aflutter at that last disclosure, and for once she didn't bother hiding it from Arnold. While he studied her expression, she allowed her mind to drift back and retrieve the words of a student librarian.

' **Here's a guy who'll go through hell and back for you!'**

"You mean…?" asked Helga, afraid to proceed with her question as it would involve the building-up of her hope, which was fragile enough as it currently stood. "You mean…there was more to it than merely doing the right thing?"

Arnold hesitated instead of giving an immediate answer. Helga saw this and wanted to lay into him for his apparent indecision. However, she was able to restrain herself. She wanted his answer; more than that, she wanted the certainty it would bring. But the answer would have to come from him. No coercion from her, no duress: it would have to be spontaneous.

And it came, shakily at first.

"You know, when all this started, all I wanted was to be your friend and see you smile again. But something happened since Urban Tots. I kept trying harder…just to be worthy of your attention. On and off, really. My feelings were stronger some days than they were on others.

Then with Patty…something clicked. Like I suddenly couldn't think of you getting hurt in any way, not as long as I had anything to say about it."

Helga wanted to interject. Oh, how badly she wanted to cut in! But she saw how confident he was becoming the more he spoke, and also that he appeared to have more to say. Letting him continue unhindered required every last ounce of her willpower, but continue he did.

"Then with Wolfgang and Edmund and how that fight started, plus how I railed on Wolfgang after the fight. I kept asking myself why I let myself take it so personally. Why didn't I just let things be like I would for anyone else? Why you? What made you so special?"

More words from Patty started playing through Helga's head: ' _ **Arnold wouldn't take such a risk for just anyone.**_ '

"Helga, are you OK?" Arnold asked, having seen her thoughts shift elsewhere.

Helga hurriedly answered: "Nope! Nope, I'm fine! Nothing the matter here! Please continue!"

So he resumed: "I just couldn't believe it! Those two events… _plus_ …me being interested in you from the moment I held that umbrella up for you. It felt… more. It made me realize…"

' _ **That boy is head over heels for you. He just doesn't know it yet!**_ '

'…that I had fallen in love with you."

* * *

One would think that Arnold's revelation would be the source of joy and relief for the boy and girl. But no, the immediate result was…silence.

That, and uncertainty too. A strong sense of ' _OK, now what?_ ' prevailed between the two.

"Wow," Helga commented. "So that's it. I'm in love with you and you're in love with me. So why am I feeling so underwhelmed?"

"I know," Arnold responded. "It's out there, but something feels off about this."

Yet in the aftermath of Arnold's confession, Helga felt bold enough to stand up and walk over to Arnold, before seating herself on his righthand side on the bed to continue the conversation.

Which she did with: "Yeah, we _say_ we're in love with each other, yet what have we done to each other over time other than bringing out the worst in each other?"

Her delivery was dry and academic: again she had put aside her feelings over the matter.

"You don't think that our confessions over the last few days can make up for all of that," Arnold queried. "Do you?"

Helga responded by first finding Arnold's free right hand and placing her left on it. "Look, Footballhead. I'm glad we had our talk, but it's not like it will magically erase all the years of bad blood I showed you. Especially since you did nothing to ever deserve it."

She then removed her hand from his, resigned to the fact that despite both of them having come clean, maybe the damage had already been done. And as if to show her willingness to accept as much, she turned away from him.

But Arnold had one more question and it went: "But you wish it would, am I right?"

Helga wanted to give back an emphatic, unequivocal ' _YES!_ ', but Arnold denied her that chance with: "So…how about a do-over?"

His suggestion stunned Helga into turning back to look at Arnold. Arnold saw the incredulity etched in her expression, and granted her a few seconds to stew therein. Helga in return, saw just how serious Arnold was over the matter – very.

"Just hear me out, please!" he continued as calmly and as rationally as his crazy proposition would allow him. "Tomorrow when we wake up, let's be strangers to one another. We've forgotten having ever met each other. All the drama, all the conflict, it doesn't exist anymore. We make a fresh start. Over time, we even believe this new reality. In the end, we somehow make it work this time."

He stopped to study her reaction. He saw confusion – _that_ was to be expected – but not much else. There was no seething anger, no hint that she was about to berate him for another of his out-there, lame-brained schemes.

He found it encouraging and so: "I'm willing to give it a go. You asked before if I think you're worth it? I say you _are!_ "

Another pause from Helga followed during which she sat saucer-eyed, barely blinking. Eventually, her expression softened and: "Well, if we're going to forget the past events, then I must first get some things done."

With that said, she brought her face much closer to his. "Come to think of it," she was now sporting a mischievous look, "I don't think I ever apologized for slapping you."

And before Arnold could react, he felt Helga's lips pressed on his right cheek. A slight pause followed when she was done, after which he felt them again on his lips. It was the briefest of delicate touches, but the tingling sensation it sparked all over him was intense in a way he'd never before experienced.

It wasn't enough. So when she pulled away, he followed her to find her lips and resume kissing her. Through their labial contact, he felt her initial surprise before she relaxed and settled into continuing the kiss. It was glorious, the sensation of his lips pressed against hers, rubbing against each other. In no time, her hands were on his cheeks, holding him in place as her kissing intensified. He responded in kind, his hands on her cheeks, his kissing intensifying too.

They pulled away to some of the heaviest breathing they'd ever felt themselves do. Their smiles to each other proclaimed utmost satisfaction and a willingness to put Arnold's plan into action.

"Yeah," Helga smirked his way. "Good luck trying to forget _that,_ Footballhead!"

* * *

Helga's walk back home included a detour during which she deposited the bubblegum Arnold effigy into the most remote dumpster she could find. It had served its purpose; it was no longer required. Her gait throughout was the same dancing-and-twirling stride from her previous visit to The Sunset Arms. Fortunately for her, the deities on duty that night were kind to her and so nobody significant was lingering to infer anything from her playful demeanor.

Arnold was differently affected, though no less happily. When sleep eventually came his way, he embraced it wearing one of his warmest smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, dearest readers, we draw the curtain on the latest chapter. My sincerest thanks to you for your support and kind words; I appreciate them all and take nothing from you for granted.
> 
> Right, now for the notes.
> 
> More often than not, my inspiration for a chapter will come from an unusual source. For this one, the inspiration came from the show, 'Homicide: Life on the Street'. More specifically, an episode called 'Three Men and Adena', which comprises mostly an interrogation. As such, the bulk of the episode plays out in a confined space (an interrogation room) and is totally dialog-driven. I was hoping to replicate the feel of that episode in this chapter, except with a two-way interrogation.
> 
> You've probably guessed that I offered my take on just why Arnold would offer his umbrella to Helga at Urba Tots. When I watched the 'Helga on the Couch' (I love claiming that I was doing research..) I paid attention to Phil in that scene and noted how his expression (pride, with a bit of surprise) suggested that Arnold's actions weren't the result of any prompting from him. So then I considered what would motivate Arnold to offer Helga his umbrella. I figured he wasn't doing it just because; something about Helga must have stirred his emotions.
> 
> And now, the Deezer List. And wow, it's just a bunch of ballads! Who would have thought?
> 
> If You Asked Me To – Céline Dion  
> The Captain of Her Heart – Double  
> Silence – Level 42  
> Brand New Day – Sting  
> Tainted – Swing Out Sister
> 
> And that concludes this chapter. Most likely the next chapter will serve as the conclusion. I hope to have the honor and privilege of your company for that. Until then, thank you and stay safe.


	8. (Re)acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: Another heart-to-heart and an unusual proposal map the way forward for Arnold and Helga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

"… _let's be strangers to one another."_

It sounded like a good idea the previous evening. In fact, it sounded worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize given the sheer magnitude of what it was meant to accomplish.

" _We've forgotten having ever met each other. All the drama, all the conflict, it doesn't exist anymore."_

As it was with most of Arnold's ideas, the premise was simple. At least it seemed so when he first proposed it. Plus, it must have been a sound idea because Helga didn't laugh it into oblivion. She'd heard him out, she'd even kissed him for suggesting it!

" _We make a fresh start."_

He'd fallen asleep anticipating the joy of achieving that goal. The anticipation may even have contributed to him having a great night's sleep. It was only when he woke up the following morning when he realized: _how do we make it happen?_

Waking up a less tired, more healed, clearer-headed version of himself also brought with it a dose of pragmatism. Suddenly there were practical issues to consider. First was the setting: where would be most appropriate, and how could he be assured she'd even be there? _We're supposed to be strangers now,_ he reminded himself. Meeting her was supposed to play out like a chance encounter, or so he presumed. Next he knew, he was fretting the little details. What would he say? How would he act? How much effort would he put in to seek her out without looking like he was stalking her? How could he be sure he wouldn't blow his chance? A second chance at a first impression.

_Dammit_ , he was now second-guessing himself. Then he remembered how conflicted, how stilted Helga herself could act around him during the time she "hated" him. _Is this how Helga was thinking every time she tried being nice to me? Am I now in her position?_

Oh, the irony. Oh, the rub.

**xxXXXxx**

Helga Pataki, meanwhile, was faring only slightly better. Like Arnold, she had woken up to a sobering new reality. Exciting, yes. Promising, assuredly. But for now, sobering.

Yesterday evening had marked a significant step in their relationship, even if it was a symbolic, mutually consented step backward. It was a chance to rebuild.

Helga Pataki was savoring her last horizontal moments in bed before she'd have to rise and prepare for school. She was smiling at Arnold, who was looking back at her from within her locket. The locket itself was dangling lazily by its chain, held up by a big toe extended toward the ceiling. She smiled as the footballhead's picture swayed gently from side to side. Hypnotizing her, transporting her to worlds of love and romance and trembling girlhoods.

_I wonder how he'll approach this reacquaintance act_ , she let her mind drift in wistful whimsy.

_He's probably lying awake, thinking of just the right time and place for us to bump into each other. 'Accidentally', of course!_

Her smile quickly shrank as her realization grew. _He's second-guessing himself. He's treating it like it was another strategy, sweating the details. Oh god, this may take a while!_

It wasn't as if she didn't appreciate his need to get their (re)acquaintance right. If anything, it spoke volumes of how much she'd come to mean to him. But maybe she was being too hard on him. Maybe she'd just need to show some more patience with him and let him be him in executing whatever scheme his cute little footballhead was concocting. After all, she'd been waiting since Urban Tots for his acceptance: what was a little more time?

_Or maybe I should take the decision out of his hands_ , she pondered before deciding that it was time to get on her feet.

* * *

The front door of The Sunset Arms swung open to reveal Arnold to his best friend and to the rest of Hillwood. Gerald noted Arnold's new facial features – swollen left cheek and right eye – whereafter he voiced his concern as calmly and as subtly as possible: "What the hell happened to you?"

He'd foregone the greeting and the handshake to get to this question. But before Arnold could attempt an answer, Gerald followed up, his voice now conveying a complete lack of surprise: "So I take it your talk with Helga didn't go so well."

And before Arnold could respond to Gerald's _second_ comment, another one came forth to vie for his attention. "Because…if that's how you came out of it, then you were doing something _way_ wrong!"

"Wait, how did you know Helga and I wanted to meet up yesterday?" Arnold parried Gerald's comments back at him.

"I didn't," admitted Number 33. "But Phoebe suspected you might. Something about you and Helga at a crossroad and needing to figure some stuff out. So I'm guessing it didn't go too well, did it?"

He studied Arnold's new look and took the opportunity to add another little zinger: "Guess she's escalated since that slap."

Only, Arnold did not see the humor in the statement as he sought to correct the matter. "Gerald," he began, perhaps a bit too defensively for his own good, "Helga didn't do this. This was Wolfgang."

" _Wolfgang?_ Oh, this just gets better and better!" Gerald reacted to the new twist which would have sounded incredulous had it not come from his straight-arrow best friend. He eventually conceded: "Well, at least the walk to school won't be a dull one."

Oh, it wasn't. Arnold informed Gerald of his altercation with the two Fifth-Graders. Hence the facial swelling, as well as the slight limp courtesy of Wolfgang and the trash can lid. Arnold's account of the fight itself survived Gerald's stringent scrutiny and cross-examination. However, the latter noted how his friend wasn't quite as forthcoming with reasons for the fight taking place in the first place. This aspect needed addressing.

"And what in the name of Malcolm X possessed you to start something with Wolfgang and Edmund? I don't care if you've got your karate! It was still two-on-one against bigger and stronger opponents! Something must have set you off!"

Arnold remained unresponsive. Unfortunately for him, he was only providing further fodder for his friend's continued questioning.

"OK, let me take a stab at it," Gerald began. "They followed you, you ran into them, doesn't really matter. They want to give you hell over Helga slapping you – _You can stop me anytime I'm wrong!_ – then suddenly they turn to Helga and say some shit about her that doesn't fly with you. _How'm I doing so far, by the way?_ "

He'd picked up how Arnold hadn't interjected in any way yet, and so continued.

"Next thing you know… _POW!_ "

Still nothing from Arnold. Neither a confirmation nor a denial. Gerald was irritated into spinning in front of his friend and grabbing him by the shoulders before looking him dead in the eyes: "Look man, _enough!_ "

Even Gerald's patience with Arnold and his idiosyncrasies was finite, and right now it had been exhausted.

"That fight started over Helga and we _both_ know it!" There was a decisiveness in his look telling Arnold that his conclusion was no longer open to any counterargument. "Arnold, just tell me straight," Gerald resumed his line of questioning. "Despite everything you've had to endure from her since Pre-K, are you now falling for her?"

He turned to notice a new look in Arnold, one tending towards fear as if a deep, dark, innocence- and reality-destroying secret was about to be loosed upon an unsuspecting world. "Look," Gerald very quickly moved to clarify his position. "We're friends, we're _brothers_ , so there's no judgment here. I mean, you and Pataki is messed up all the way to high heaven, but you're the brother to me that Jamie O never will be and I love you too much to not respect your decision!"

Gerald had given Arnold no choice but to relent. A pause and a breath later: "Gerald, will you hear me out, no matter what?"

"When have I not?"

"The truth is…I think…I mean, these last few days…Helga and Patty, the slap, Wolfgang and Edmund…I got to thinking. I mean they made me think all the way back to Pre-K about me and Helga. And I mean _think_. Over and over and over."

He paused to see that he still held Gerald's rapt concentration, and so continued.

"And every time I came back to the same conclusion…"

Despite Gerald's declaration of brotherhood – which, be in no doubt, was absolute – he instinctively groaned: "Don't tell me…"

"…that I like-like Helga. That I'm…in love with her."

They kept walking in silence for a while after that (dud?) bombshell before Gerald rekindled the conversation. "So have you told her about this earth-shattering revelation?" he asked in a now-calm voice suspiciously lacking any sense of drama or histrionics.

Arnold had his answer for that question already mapped out. He'd touch on what happened between him and Helga after her fight with Patty, then he'd also offer some of the lesser aspects of the first discussion in his room. He'd avoid the second one, the most recent one, as best he could. Even Gerald's understanding would be strained in trying to countenance the outcome and eventual agreement resulting from _that_ talk.

That was his plan…which came to no fruition as Gerald followed up with: "Because I think that's one discussion you two should have. _Right_ now!"

Arnold looked back at Gerald to see him pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. Arnold followed the direction of the thumb and – good lord! – there was Helga in the flesh, some distance behind them. She froze upon visual acquisition, as did Arnold. The latter's action also caused Gerald to stop.

"Spotted her behind us when we went face-to-face," Gerald explained while still keeping his eyes front. "Hell of a detour she must have taken. Reckon she's been following us since your place. Reckon she might have the same things on her mind that you have on yours. Good luck, brother."

He offered his hand for a long-overdue secret shake – which Arnold accepted – before continuing on his way.

Arnold was left to turn back to look at Helga, who remained rooted in place. A bit of a pause followed before she raised her hand to wave him a shy greeting, with a smile to match. He returned the gesture with a smile that mirrored hers. He then watched as she approached him.

**xxXXXxx**

It figured: she hadn't factored in Tall Hair Boy. If not for him, she could have staged a 'coincidental' encounter. Doing so, she'd force the footballhead's hand, force him right into the scenario that he himself proposed to her.

No planning. No fretting. No second-guessing. Straight to the point; no rehearsal.

Then Gerald freakin' Johanssen had to enter stage right to kibosh the works. OK OK! Not _'kibosh'_ , just… _'delay'_. Not a train wreck…absolutely, positively _not_ a train wreck!

Well, whatever. She'd just keep her distance, blend into the background. Do nothing to garner any attention.

But hey, old habits and all…

Instinctively she began observing the footballhead in her usual soft-focus forensic detail. His magnificent being. His somewhat labored stride. _Poor thing, guess his leg is still recovering._ She observed the conversation between the friends. She gathered from Arnold's punching movements that he was recalling yesterday's fight for Gerald's amazement and enjoyment.

Then she watched the mood between the two turn more serious if the change in body language was any reliable metric. Things seemed to get really serious when Gerald spun to get into Arnold's face for another round of his wisdom. Were they talking about her? Did she dare consider that possibility? It would explain why Gerald had become so critical all of a sudden. He always was critical of Arnold's romantic interests, all the way from Ruth McDougal. Why should she be any different? If anything, she more than anyone was worthy of his cynicism.

From there they continued. Until they stopped again, and Gerald directed Arnold's attention… _shit_ , he was pointing the footballhead her way. Arnold turned around and next she knew, neither of them could avert their nervous eyes from each other. Gerald didn't turn around for some reason; in fact, he continued on his way to leave his boy to his fate.

And the best Helga could offer Arnold was a feeble wave and smile, gestures he returned her way.

_OK, Helga Ol' Girl_ , she resolved. _This is your one shot! This is the second chance you could only dream of! This is for all the marbles! Don't blow it!_

* * *

"Hi there," greeted Helga, doing her all to shroud the bundle of nerves she really was.

"Hello," acknowledged Arnold, equally as apprehensive.

"Sooo…" Helga braced herself to continue, "you know, Kid? I don't think I've seen you before. I mean, I walk this route to school daily."

What a lie: the detour she had taken to be here could as well been measured in parsecs. The only thing counting in her favor was that she and Arnold were supposed to be blank slates to one another. Arnold seemed to be keeping in character, which was reason enough for her not to be discouraged.

"Oh?" was all Arnold could manage, and immediately he looked uncertain whether or not he was going off-script. Or for that matter…if there _was_ indeed a script in the first place.

Still, he couldn't just leave it at 'oh', so: "Well, that _is_ rather strange."

"And why's that?" Helga asked back. "'Strange' because someone can be _that_ blind or ignorant?"

It was clear from her delivery of that question, that Helga's sassy self and her more demure character were arguing over who was in charge. Thankfully, that little aspect went unnoticed by Arnold for whatever reason.

"Wait!" Arnold quickly countered. "I was talking about me, not you! _I'm_ the reason it's strange!"

"Wait, _what?_ " Helga blurted back, now unsure of where the acting had ended and the truth had begun. Her little outburst was enough for Arnold to pause and reconsider, before resuming.

"I mean…for me not to have noticed such a pretty girl who's been walking past my front door for so long…"

And as he trailed off, he noticed Helga's pupils dilate and her cheeks redden at his remark. _Dammit_ , he cursed to himself, _too soon?_ Still, he read from her flustered expression that she had merely been caught off guard and was not necessarily averse to a bit of flattery.

"You know, only someone truly dense wouldn't notice something that obvious," Arnold continued. "A real paste-for-brains, you could say."

"'Paste-for-brains'?" Now Helga was somewhat amused as she repeated the term with a light chuckle. "That's an unusual term. How'd you ever come across that one?"

"Oh, some kid at school likes to use it a lot. Guess it kinda rubbed off on me."

And just like that, Arnold had signaled a turning point in this conversation. He'd made Helga chuckle a little bit louder, causing her to relax a little bit more. Her newfound relaxation would show in her more natural delivery.

"So you really meant it when you called me pretty?" she asked. "We've only just met. I mean, are you really that desperate to reach for such lines so soon?"

"Hey, I can only call 'em like I see 'em." – With that said, he extended a hand her way – "By the way, I'm Arnold."

Right, right! This was the moment towards which they were building: the introduction. Helga played her part to perfection as she took his hand and replied: "Pleased to meet you, Arnold. I'm Helga. Helga Pataki."

"Shortman," Arnold filled in his surname, "and the feeling is mutual. It's very nice to meet you too."

"Shortman, you say? That's an interesting surname, English if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah," Arnold admitted, encouraged that they'd transitioned to the small-talk phase. "How about Pataki?"

"Hungarian," Helga responded, her voice more natural still. "Means 'near a creek'. Well you know, better near the creek than _up_ it."

She evoked a snort of laughter from Arnold, in which she joined him. Maybe this act of getting reacquainted was a great idea all along. Which reminded her:

"Listen, not wanting to sound all self-conscious…but did you mean it when you called me pretty?"

Except, she _was_ being self-conscious. Act or no act, she needed to be sure that she had heard him correctly. And he obliged her, his tone as sincere and smile as beautiful as only he could manage.

"Absolutely. I reckon only a complete idiot would think otherwise."

"A regular paste-for-brains, wouldn't you say," she offered to complement his previous statement.

"Nah, I was thinking more along the lines of 'geek bait'."

They shared some more laughter over 'geek bait' before Helga continued the conversation with: "Let me guess: from the same kid who came up with 'paste-for-brains'? Sounds like _someone_ had anger management issues."

She then realized that she might have gotten careless and that she might have forced Arnold to break character – together with the flow and nature of the dialogue. But again she was to be surprised by Arnold's resourcefulness.

"Well, she did. But it turns out she's really cool to hang around with," he recalled. "At least she _was_ , but then we had a falling out and kinda drifted apart."

She wasn't sure whether his accompanying melancholy look was an act or if he was displaying genuine emotion. Certainty came her way when she realized with whom she was dealing. _This is Arnold Shortman we're talking about! He wears his feelings openly; there's no way he'd be able to fake that!_

Regardless of that, she now had to respond. "Oh yeah? Well…her loss, I suppose."

"You think so?"

"Of course!" was her emphatic reply. "Look, I've only just met you but you already seem like a swell guy to me. I figure anyone who'd want to have a falling out with you ought to have their head examined and I'd _challenge_ you to prove me wrong! _Plus_ …since you think I'm pretty, it must mean you're an excellent judge of character!"

His smile at her response was positively radiant – nourishment for her very soul.

"It's your bow that does it for me," Arnold elaborated, his smile still well intact. "It's pink like your dress and it looks so pretty on you."

It required all of Helga's resolve and discipline not to melt at that cheeky little callback. Only her fluttering eyelids betrayed any sort of imprimatur thereof.

_So now we're dueling, are we? Trying to catch each other out, eh?_

But any attempt by her at a comeback was stymied by Arnold as he slightly sheepishly pointed out: "Uh, by the way…you think it would be OK if we give each other back our hands?"

Doing so, he directed Helga to the fact that they were still holding hands; they hadn't yet released their grips from the initial handshake. _"Oh!"_ , as they hurriedly pulled away to rectify that situation. Wow…super awkward, as illustrated by them suddenly staring all over the place while at a loss for words. Much hemming and hawing later, Helga ventured forth with:

"You know, Arnold – that is your name, right? You know, I don't think I got to make my point at the beginning. I mean…I _did_ mention how I've been walking past your place for a long time and I'm only now realizing that you exist and what an idiot I've been for not noticing such a handsome" – she had started rambling – "and, now I discover, charming boy, any sooner."

She paused for a deep breath; she'd hyperventilated quite severely during that last impassioned passage.

"But do you want to know the _really_ crazy part?" she resumed, no less passionate. "And I'm talking _ker-razy_ here! I'm talking straitjacket, padded cell, throw away the key, shoot the key maker just to make sure! The real crazy part is that the moment I first saw you, I already felt a connection with you. Like I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I passed up on this opportunity."

_Where does the acting end and the truth begin?_

She followed up in a more demure voice: "And now that I've started talking to you, I find you're every bit the person I thought you'd be! And well…if you can somehow look beyond my crazy side, I'd…I'd very much like to get to know you better."

Throughout her raving, Arnold's smile had not diminished, not even slightly. Neither did he miss his cue, such as cues existed in what he and Helga were undertaking. "And I'd like just as much to get to know you too. And don't worry. I love it when someone isn't afraid of being their true self."

_Where does the acting end and the truth begin?_

Helga was beside herself with joy at that line. So much so that after a few uncertain seconds, she broke character to grab Arnold by the shoulders and pull him in to kiss him flush on the lips. While Helga had her eyes closed and was savoring the moment, Arnold was a portrait of open-eyed confusion. Five-or-so seconds later, Helga ended the kiss and immediately questioned the wisdom behind her move upon seeing Arnold's dazed and confused expression.

_Way to go, Helga_ , she internally self-flagellated. _You just couldn't keep it under control and now you've gone and ruined the whole shebang!_

Or did she? Because she then watched as Arnold's dazed look gradually lessened, giving way to a leery smile. "Wow!" he eventually spoke in a tone that mirrored his expression. "Being a bit forward, aren't we?"

"I…I…" Helga fumbled for an explanation. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me. And I know…I know we've just met, but…I just took one look at you and you looked just so kissable and…well, _I just couldn't help myself!_ "

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Arnold reassured her. "I mean, if this is what I've got to look forward to from getting to know you, then sign me up!"

Helga's relief was palpable, and Arnold's follow-up would do her even more favors. "Say, we have to get going or else we'll be late for school. But I'd love to continue talking with you along the way. I just hope you don't mind walking at a not very quick pace. Leg injury, you see."

"Hey, it's not like anything important happens there anyway," Helga joked back. As they began their slog toward education, she added: "Hey listen. Seeing that you don't mind me being forward, well…tomorrow's Saturday. You wanna hang with me? You know…arcade, park, I know this one junkyard with some cool – if somewhat funky – mud features…"

"You know what? That sounds like a plan."

* * *

When Gerald arrived at P.S. 118, he quickly found Phoebe in and amongst a congregation at the main entrance, scanning the area. Perhaps she'd been unaware of Helga's little detour as she appeared to be keeping watch for her best friend. Whatever her reason, she was there where he needed her to be as he walked straight through her greeting to hug her as tightly as he could.

"Gerald!" she yelped in response. Not that she was necessarily objecting to her boyfriend's action, but she didn't know the context for said action. "Whatever has possessed you this morning!"

"Babe," Gerald explained while not relinquishing his hold, "the world's about to end today and I'd much rather be with the girl I love when it does."

"Gerald, whatever do you mean?"

"You'll see soon enough," was all reply he offered as he held on to his diminutive girlfriend.

Sure enough, she did eventually. She witnessed Arnold and Helga approaching the schoolyard, only they seemed to be all chatty and chummy and all smiles between one another. Her reaction thereto was as profound an "Oh my!" as she had ever heard herself issue.

Unlike Gerald, she regarded the spectacle playing out in front of her as an inevitability. She was, however, completely thrown off by the timing. She distinctly recalled the tentative steps she laid out for Helga in discussing romantic matters with Arnold. One topic at a time, a gradual build-up. That was _supposed_ to be the strategy.

But _this?_

Too soon, _way_ too soon. _How could they have made that amount of progress in barely a day?_ Too much for her to fathom. Too much to compute.

"Oh _my!_ "

Overwhelming her, forcing her to reciprocate her boyfriend's embrace. Although Gerald's back was turned to Arnold and Helga, he knew exactly why Phoebe was returning his hug.

"See what I mean?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

"Gerald," responded Phoebe, "let's just savor this moment while we still can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, all you wonderful readers! Another chapter concluded. My apologies for the delay, but I had an op two weeks ago that set back my writing quite significantly. Not really the op itself, more the two days I spent working the anesthetist's painkillers, muscle relaxants, and barbiturates out of my system. To say the least, I was feeling groovy for all the wrong reasons. About all I could do was read chapters and post reviews. Even when I finally started this chapter, it took some time before I settled into a groove and the words started flowing.
> 
> We're not quite done yet, since two loose ends still need to be addressed. I hope to have that done by the next chapter, but then I also said that this one would be the last one.
> 
> So now we go to the notes.
> 
> Helga dangling the locket from her toe was only added in after the chapter was completed; originally she'd be holding it in her hand. Then I happened across a song I hadn't heard in a long time ('Tip Taps Tip' by Halcali) that I recognized as the third closing theme for Eureka Seven. Nostalgia then got the better of me and I watched the third closing of that title, which made me think: 'Nope, Helga must dangle that locket from her toe!'
> 
> OK, so 'parsecs' was a deliberate exaggeration in quantifying Helga's detour. But hey, it does get the point across, right?
> 
> In writing Gerald for this chapter, I considered all the times in the series where he would voice objections to Arnold pursuing any given girl. At least, I thought that was his objection. I realized it's much more nuanced than that. Gerald realizes that Arnold always wears his heart on his sleeve and as such is very vulnerable to having it broken. And being Arnold's best friend, he'll do whatever he can to prevent that from happening, usually by trying to be a voice of reason. Of course, he's not immune to any of this ('Gerald vs. Jamie O'). Nevertheless, I hope to have made apparent that Gerald is always looking out for his boy's best interests.
> 
> So that's it for the notes. To the Deezer list, with some help from YouTube. Apparently, Deezer isn't all that big on Miles Gilderdale, nor on China Black and Halcali:
> 
> Stars – China Black  
> Tip Taps Tip – Halcali  
> Love in a Peaceful World – Level 42  
> Strange Girl – Miles Gilderdale  
> Cupid – Rowlene  
> Say You Love Me – Simply Red  
> Advice For The Young At Heart – Tears For Fears
> 
> And that wraps up this chapter. Thank you, one and all, for sticking along for the ride. See you next time.


	9. (Re)nascence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI: A "chance encounter" shows promising signs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

Friday morning at P.S. 118 began without much drama for Arnold and Helga.

Inevitably, the sight of them being comfortable in each other's presence would raise its share of eyebrows. But in honesty, it had been two days since Patty blabbed about how the two of them might be an item. Two days in the context of school gossip cycles happened to be a very long time, and quite frankly, them being on friendlier terms had become old news. Thus, the gossipmongers and speculators had moved on to the next big story.

During the course of the day, the school body would learn that one of those new stories involved Wolfgang and Edmund. Helga surmised that the two fifth-graders were most eager to put whatever positive spin they could on their fight the previous day. To that end, their account went of them running afoul of a group of seventh-graders – whose number kept growing with every iteration of the tale – and against whom they stood no chance despite their most valiant efforts.

In hindsight, it explained to the blonde couple why only their best friends were really interested in knowing in any detail just what the current situation was with them, and also how said situation had been reached. Gerald was already au fait with many of the underlying details and only required a brief follow-up explanation during recess. Without divulging all the facts – the redo in particular – Arnold was able to explain how he and Helga had reconciled their past confusions and hostilities, and how they had taken a tentative step towards an actual relationship.

And though Gerald remained vocally dubious of a relationship between his best friend and said friend's former tormentor – "Forget bold! You've gone strayed into crazy!" – all that really mattered was that his boy be happy. After all, Gerald had already pledged his unequivocal support of the new development. And Gerald Martin Johanssen was nothing if not a man of his word.

**xxXXXxx**

As for Helga…

"Don't get me wrong, Helga," clarified Phoebe. "I'd be overjoyed merely by the fact that you and Arnold managed to overcome your differences. And – no doubt – having been able to map out a way forward with him is grounds for _ecstasy._ "

"So why am I not exactly getting that celebratory vibe from you?" replied Helga.

It was after school and the two friends were in Phoebe's room. Ostensibly they were there to do homework. The reality was that they too were discussing Helga's new development. Helga was seated at Phoebe's desk, facing the bed where sat her pint-sized host. The discussion was taking place here because of the blonde girl's need for privacy that a school setting could not reliably provide. Thus far she had filled in her best friend on every interaction she'd had with Arnold over the past three days.

The full aftermath of her fight with Patty.

The full aftermath of her slapping Arnold.

Arnold walloping two fifth-graders in her honor, and yes, the full aftermath thereof too.

These past three days had been the source of so much progress and so much development. So now that she had shared the news with Phoebe, why was her best friend's response one of ambivalence?

"Oh no no no!" Phoebe quickly stuttered. "I am most heartened by this development! Please have no misunderstandings about that!"

"But..?" Helga pressed on, knowing that she wasn't hearing all of Phoebe's thoughts.

And Phoebe hesitantly began her answer: "But…I'm having some concerns over the fact that your newfound relationship may have been predicated on a lie."

Anyone other than Phoebe Heyerdahl would have invited the wrath of Helga Pataki by pointing out any flaws in her life and machinations. But Helga – for all her recalcitrance – truly valued Phoebe's feedback and insight. She thus remained calm and collected as she elaborated on her and Arnold's decision.

"Look, I know how weird it looks. But _look_ at us, Pheebs! Arnold and me? We're not exactly anyone's idea of a normal couple, are we? Never have been, never will be!"

" _I'll_ say," Phoebe appeared to concur.

"Anyway," Helga continued, ignoring her friend's jibe, "it's not as if we didn't agree on this…what can we call it? An arrangement?"

"Please don't," countered Phoebe. "'Arrangement' sounds too transactional, devoid of any emotion."

"Well whatever you want to call it, it's not something we're taking lightly. We spoke at length over it. There were the occasional shouting matches. Hell, at times we brought out the worst in each other. And yet…"

"In the end, you felt that this do-over – this charade – would be worth it," Phoebe interjected.

"No, you got it wrong!" Helga kept insisting. "It's _not_ a charade! It's just that we don't want our past to hold us back! God knows we spoke at so much length over how wrong we got it ever since Urban Tots! And in the end, this is what Arnold suggested! This was _his_ solution!"

"Wait, _Arnold?_ " Phoebe's surprise at that reveal was almost enough to have physical substance. " _He_ suggested this new status quo?"

"Yeah, and what exactly is wrong with that?"

Phoebe's surprise was well-founded as she explained: "Well you see, Helga. I've been a part of many of your more left-field, morally and legally suspect schemes, whether as a witness, accessory, or accomplice. This development you've just described to me is consistent in nature with any of your previous outlandish acts, so I'd naturally assume that it was _you_ who suggested this radical new stratagem. But _Arnold_?"

"Yeah, go figure," Helga answered, while not knowing whether to be honored or insulted by Phoebe's assessment. "Straight-laced Arnold Shortman, the example for every boy scout and choir boy to aspire to!"

"Well," Phoebe responded, still reeling from that shocker, "that changes everything! That sets a _whole_ new precedent!"

"OK, I'll bite. How so?"

"As I mentioned, I originally thought this was your idea to work out a twisted compromise to compel him into coming around to your thinking. Now you insinuate the complete opposite: that he, in fact, considers you worthy enough to forsake his heretofore absolute moral code."

To which Helga groaned: "C'mon, Pheebs! I didn't force him into anything! How many times must I say it before you believe me? We talked, we _confessed_! I mean I heard from his _very_ mouth that he has feelings for me too! He wants to make this work as much as I do! Shouldn't that count for something?"

In honesty, Phoebe wasn't against Arnold and Helga beginning a relationship; in fact, Helga's happiness was her happiness too. She was merely performing her due diligence as Helga's best friend and confidante.

"It should…" – and then a long, contemplative pause – "and it does."

Those words were crucial to Helga. They meant that her many explanations had eventually overcome Phoebe's reservations.

"As long as you know what you're entering, and as long as you don't hurt each other. That you don't squander this second chance you've allocated yourselves. Just promise me that, Helga; that's all I ask!"

And there it was! She'd done it! She'd earned Phoebe's support! Helga's glee at the realization thereof manifested itself in her springing to her feet before covering the distance between her and Phoebe at record pace. Once there, she grabbed the half-pint around the waist, hoisted her off her feet, and pulled her close for a great big spinning bear hug.

All while repeatedly gushing: "Oh Phoebe! Thank you! Thank you! _Thank you!_ "

Phoebe was taken completely unawares by Helga's reaction. She was trying to remain as businesslike as one could while being swung around repeatedly by a taller, stronger, giddily love-addled best friend.

"Thank you for _what?_ " she eventually managed once Helga was done and had put her down. "It's not as if you came here seeking my permission or approval."

"But Pheebs..!" Helga countered, no less delirious. "You understand now! And you support me! _And_ you know what this moment with Arnold means to me."

Helga moved in for another embrace, only to be stopped by an outstretched hand from Phoebe. "Sorry Helga, but one exaggerated display of jollity will be _quite_ sufficient, thank you very much!"

At that, Helga paused and gave her friend a protracted sheepish look. Phoebe took stock of how incongruous a look this was for one as brusque as Helga Geraldine Pataki, and soon descended into a bout of laughter. And credit to Helga, for she also saw the humor in the present situation and joined Phoebe in her laughter.

Only once the laughter subsided, could Phoebe advance the conversation with: "By the way, what plans have you made for tomorrow?"

* * *

Late that Saturday morning – around eleven o'clock – a knock was heard at the front door of a Hillwood residence. A blonde, somewhat heavyset woman responded to open the door. She eyed the visitor warily before greeting her.

"Hello. And you are?"

"Hello, Ma'am," Patty greeted back. "Is Wolfgang in? I'd like to talk to him."

"Ah, so you're desperate," Wolfgang's mother deadpanned, answering her original question.

"Oh sorry, Ma'am," said Patty. "I forgot my manners! I am Patty Smith. Pleased to meet you."

"Well now," the mother commented, "Your name is Patty Smith and you wish to talk to Wolfgang."

Her repetition of Patty's words was enough to make even the big girl apprehensive in her presence. Patty was unsettled even more when the adult leaned in closer, getting in her face. Close enough, in fact, for Patty to note what facial features Wolfgang shared with her. The woman eventually spoke again, saying: "Are you sure you can't do better?"

And with that one sentence, she'd accomplished what many of Patricia Smith's peers would consider impossible: she'd made the big girl bashful, stammering for an explanation. "No, Ma'am!" Patty issued in a desperate meter while trying not to trip over her words. "I just need to see him quickly! That's all, I promise!"

At which point Wolfgang's mother smiled and said: "Don't worry, I'm just messing with you. Thank god you're here to talk to him. I mean, two days ago he and his friend Edmund – you know Edmund, right? Well, the two of them had this really bad fall down some stairs while they were walking home from school. But for some reason, he's just been sulking in his room every time he gets home. It's driving me and his father crazy! If you've come to talk sense into him, good luck!"

She then turned to face the inside of the house to holler: "Hey Wolfie! There's a girl here against her better judgment to see you! Get your butt front and center right this moment! And make sure you're at least sort of presentable this time!"

_Wolfie?_

At least Wolfgang was appropriately clothed in his usual ensemble as he appeared in the lounge, heeding his mother's call. "Mom!" he yelled. "I told you I don't want to see any—"

He froze in place upon realizing who was there to see him: "Patty?"

"Oh, so you know each other?" commented his mother before focusing her attention on Patty and continuing with: "You poor dear! Anyhow, I'll leave you two to your privacy."

_Oh hell no you won't!_ So vowed Wolfgang as he forced his way past the parent to get to Patty before she could have a chance to enter the house. "If it's all the same, Patty, let's keep this outside."

"Shame on you, Wolfie! This nice young lady walked all the way here just to talk to you!" Yes, 'walked'! Patty was off her crutch and her right leg was able to support her weight again. Anyway, Mrs. Wolfgang's Mother continued with her rebuke: "The least you could do was invite her in!"

"Oh that's fine, Ma'am!" reassured a flustered Patty. "I was just passing through anyway!"

" _See_ , Mom!" Wolfgang chimed in. "She's just passing through, so we can talk outside!"

"Oh very well!" the mother huffed reluctantly. "But you mind your manners, Wolfgang Hedblom! And ferchrissakes, at least _act_ like a gentleman!"

* * *

At about the same time that balmy, early spring Saturday morning, they met. They were at a park, near the basketball courts. They greeted each other, each one trying their best to sound as cool and collected as possible. Trying not to appear too eager to be in each other's presence.

Despite their unspoken mutual eagerness, and also the significance of this day, neither had made any additional effort for today's get-together. They were dressed in their usual combinations, though Arnold had arrived with a backpack and a basketball.

"A _basketball_?" she asked. Her accompanying expression spoke just as eloquently of not fully understanding his motives. "You mean you invited me for a one-on-one game?"

"Well, you see," Arnold began explaining. "From our talk yesterday, I figure you're not afraid of a little contact on the field or on the court. In fact," – and he blushed a bit as he continued – "…in fact, you look like someone who likes a bit of a challenge."

Helga's blush briefly mirrored Arnold's before she regained her composure. "Yeah, well…" she began, fumbling for an elusive comeback. She then paused for a while to give Arnold a thorough look from top to toe. As she did so, a smirk crept up on her visage and she had her answer. She commented to the smaller boy: "A _challenge_ , you say? But I thought I'd be playing against _you_?"

"Oh? So it's on, then?" he smirked back.

_Oh yes_ , it was on!

They lost track of time in a game marked by several dribbles, spins and wrong-footing, some – OK, _many_ – instances of body-checking. Not to mention the taunting: nothing meanspirited, everything in good fun. Once or twice, Helga attempted to distract Arnold by blowing sweetly on his ear. Her attempts succeeded until Arnold became wise to them, at which point they didn't. Arnold wasn't above some underhanded tactics himself and later retaliated with a similar move – a bold move from a bold kid – that involved kissing Helga on the cheek as she was lining what would have been an impressive three-pointer. The game intensified as it progressed. Gradually the game became more and more about defense and blocking. Suddenly they were pressing and wriggling against each other that bit harder and that bit longer. In their minds, they were playing their defensive strategies for all they were worth. Passers-by would have told a different tale of borderline inappropriate contact, so luckily there were none to draw such conclusions.

By the time they called it quits, both Arnold and Helga were a sweaty sight. Curiously, neither could remember what the final score of their game was – "Hey, I thought _you_ were keeping score!" was repeatedly flung back and forth. Even more curiously, neither was sure whether their heavy breathing was as a result of their physical exertion or their constant bodily contact. Their heavy breathing somehow continued for a longish while after the game as they stole some furtive glances at each other. Arnold found himself so taken in by how Helga's dress was clinging to her shoulders, collars, and her neck that he almost forgot to offer her a fresh towel from his backpack for her to wipe herself. Helga in turn was fondly remembering how Arnold's conditioned musculature – that had withstood a full onslaught from Wolfgang – felt pressed against her body during the game.

But in the end, there remained but one – spoken – mutual certainty: "Now _that_ was fun!"

Next it was Helga's turn to make an offer: "Hey Footballhead, you hungry? I'm treating."

" _Footballhead?_ " repeated a quizzical Arnold, and Helga immediately rebuked herself for having possibly played that card too soon. But Arnold remained ever the good sport as he followed up with: " _That_ one's new!"

Helga spotted the opening he was offering her and quickly went to work with: "Well…you said you liked my bow, how it does it for you. Well, _I_ like your cute head! It's cute like your cap!"

Some blushing by Arnold followed before he stopped for him to take on a melancholier look and speak: "My cap. Yeah…about that. Um…listen, Helga, I know we've just met, but I already feel like I can tell this to you. Would you like to hear the story behind this cap? It's rather personal and I haven't told it to anyone, not even my best friend."

And Helga responded: "Sure, Footballhead…I'll listen."

* * *

They were some distance from his porch when Wolfgang made the opening sentence. "Sorry about that, but she'd be all over us inside and we'd have no privacy." He then realized in whose presence he was before his tone changed from apologetic to suspicious. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Checking up on your bullshit," Patty replied in her soft, strictly-business voice. "I get that you told your folks and the teachers you fell. But the rest of us must believe a pack of seventh-graders jumped you?"

"But it's true!" Wolfgang insisted. "They got us bad. I lost a tooth." – for emphasis, he bore his teeth to her to highlight a missing incisor – "plus I couldn't feel my arm for two hours after they were done! _And_ my one rib is still tender! And don't get me started with Edmund! He says it still hurts when he pees and—"

"Whoa!" Patty interrupted. "Too much information! _Way_ too much information!"

"Well, that's what happened!"

"Uh-huh!" Patty remained unconvinced. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with you guys railing on Arnold in the cafeteria after Helga slapped him."

At that, Wolfgang flinched. Only slightly, but enough for Patty to pick it up. She was, after all, something of an expert at reading body language. She pressed on: "And I suppose the kids who saw you two leaving the school and following Arnold on the day of your ass-whupping, all need glasses?"

Not _quite_ the story, but close enough for Wolfgang's discomfort to deepen. Patty read from his new demeanor that she was on the right track.

"And I suppose you wanted to continue giving him stick for being a sucker for punishment with Helga Pataki," she continued. "Only…it didn't quite go that way, didn't it? He fought back, _hard_ this time, right."

Damn, she was right – well, _mostly_ right – but Wolfgang still had his pride and would direct the conversation anywhere to preserve it. "Yeah? So what? What's any of this to you anyway?"

Unfortunately for him, Patty saw straight through his attempt at obfuscation. "Consider this a friendly warning. Don't try and go after Arnold for revenge."

"What? Is he under your protection?"

"He doesn't need it. He's got Helga now, and as long as he's got her, you guys don't stand a chance against him. _No-one_ does!"

Wolfgang could only scoff at that remark: "Now that's rich! You coming here to save me from that little runt!"

"Look. I wanted to kill Helga Pataki after what she did to me, and only Arnold was standing between me and her. That 'little runt' stared me down when I was in a murderous rage and I wanted blood. I told him to get out of my way, and he said no. Wouldn't budge. Shook me up into backing the hell off without so much as throwing a punch."

The enormity of that accomplishment – getting Patty to back off from something – did not escape Wolfgang. Patty, in turn, was not oblivious to his newfound look of clarity.

"See what I mean?" she explained. "Helga did me over the moment I brought Arnold into the equation. You tried bringing Helga in when dealing with him, now you're missing a tooth and Edmund can't pee. You'll be wasting your time going after him for revenge. Besides, no seventh-graders worth their salt would even think of wasting their time on two lowly grade fives like you!"

Wolfgang was still preoccupied with the Arnold/Helga situation to notice Patty's last barb. "So let me get this straight. They're now an item and it can all be traced back to when you decided Helga needed some manners beaten into her."

Now Patty was retiring from Wolfgang's statement. "Well, when you put it that way…" she begrudgingly began acknowledging. But Wolfgang had built his momentum and was not about to apply the brakes: "What are you then, some unintentional love catalyst?"

Patty shot from annoyance to confusion: "Say _what!_ "

"Catalyst!" repeated Wolfgang. "You know: a substance that enables a chemical reaction to proceed at a usually faster rate or under different conditions than otherwise possible."

Patty's confusion remained unchanged.

"Oh come on!" begged Wolfgang. "Give me _some_ credit! I'm a solid C+ student. B- on a _really_ good day!"

Patty was really unsure now. About Wolfgang and this surprising bout of intelligence that had just come out of nowhere. "Uh…" she eventually attempted an explanation. "OK!"

"About me or about you?"

And now she was even more confused. "I'm surprised, Wolfgang. I always thought you were a typical low-rent bully. Turns out you can actually think as well."

"Ha!" Wolfgang scoffed back. "From someone who built her rep on what she did to Mary, I'll take it as a compliment!"

And suddenly Patty was frowning. "Mary," she bitterly repeated the name. "I still can't escape that damn girl's shadow!"

"What are you talking about?" queried Wolfgang. Patty was surprised at how his voice conveyed interest more than it did condescendence. His interest spurred her to keep talking.

"Everyone talks about how she's this innocent, helpless little girl who I picked on."

"Yeah, that's about right," confirmed Wolfgang.

"Well, she _wasn't!_ She was a bully too. She was the ringleader of a large group of lower graders that always found me and gave me hell over how big I was. That's where 'Fatty Patty' began, you know? Anyway, this keeps going on. I try being mature about it and tell the teachers and they keep saying 'it's just kids being kids'. So one day I've had enough. I decide I'm going to make an example out of her. I get her alone and I work her over something bad. I tell her if she blabs on me, she can expect another visit."

Why was she telling him all this? All the same, she found herself unable to stop.

"Next thing you know, the whole ring falls apart and Big Patty is not to be trifled with. Mary tries to spin this tale of me being the evil big bad. Some kids believe her, but nobody does anything about it and I end up getting left alone. And you think I'm like you. I'm _not!_ " – her feelings were starting to surface for the first time in a long while – "I don't go looking for trouble. I'm happy when I'm left alone! I like it when things are peaceful!"

Wolfgang was left reeling at this disclosure, but before he could get any words out…

"Which is why you'll leave Arnold and Helga alone. Otherwise," she was back to her quietly menacing voice, "I'll blab to the whole school that it was Arnold that whupped your ass, _Wolfie!_ Do we understand each other?"

She gave him no chance for a reply; she simply turned around to make her way back to the street and on her way home.

"Hey Patty!" she heard him call her name. She turned to find him looking at her with intrigue in his eyes. "Your leg still doesn't look so good. You want me to walk you home? Maybe talk a little more?"

And despite her opinions of Wolfgang before knocking on his door, Patty couldn't help but think of the gentleman inside that his gruff exterior might indeed have been concealing.

* * *

She listened. Arnold spoke and she listened.

"Wow, I…I really don't know what to say," commented Helga when he was done talking. By then Helga's offer of nourishment was forgotten in favor of a quiet, secluded, shady tree under which Arnold had told this almost 'total stranger' probably the most personal of his many stories. He'd told her of the cap and the significance it held to him; how it was his only tangible link to his parents. His parents whom he last saw so many years ago and for whom he would give anything even just to know that they were still alive somewhere out there.

"I mean…full disclosure, Arnold. I think parents are overrated. I have two of my own…and my home life isn't that great for it and…well…as a result, I don't know what to say." – all she could do was repeat her initial response – "But it sounds like you haven't given up hope. It sounds like they treated you well and you actually mattered to them. Who knew? Who knew that inside you're hurting as much as anyone at school? Maybe even more."

"But I _can't_ , Helga!" he replied as if resigned to his current melancholy situation. "I can't bring it up, I can't let it show!"

Only he _was!_ And to _her!_ She was seeing a side of him that he must have kept hidden for much of his walking life. "Otherwise," he continued, his voice dangerously close to quivering, "I won't be able to keep it together. And that's what scares me!"

Helga didn't have the words for him, so she decided her actions would have to suffice. To that end, she found herself reaching for him to pull him in and cradle his head against her chest. As she held him there, she heard him calm down slightly. She felt she had to offer some words of comfort, however…

"Arnold, let me first say that I'm not very good at this offering comfort thing. In fact, I'm rather terrible at it. But…take your time. Maybe I'll get the hang of it."

A lengthy duration passed before Arnold spoke again. "Thanks, Helga," he began as he pulled his head away from her chest to look her in the eye. "I can't begin to think how lucky I was to run into you only yesterday!"

"Me too, Arnold," she found herself murmuring softly back at him.

"Uh…if it's OK with you," Arnold appeared hesitant as he began this particular sentence. "I mean I just now thought…what you called me back on the court: 'Footballhead'. I…think I like it…a lot. If you want to _keep_ calling me 'Footballhead', I'm fine with that."

Was he aware of what his words were doing to her? Having heard his statement, she wanted to express her joy to the entire world. Instead, she settled for a soft and subdued: "Sure thing…Footballhead."

The smile accompanying her words was one of uncertainty, yet it also spoke of quiet contentment and of all being right with the world, if only for that brief moment. Reality intruded in the form of her stomach resuming its audible rumbling, whereupon her smile was replaced by an urgent look that would suffer no delays.

"OK, Footballhead! I'm happy and I'm honored that we could share this moment together" – she was, she 100% honestly was – "but my stomach is now commanding food, or else there'll be trouble!"

Oh, how this girl fascinated him! She was every bit herself – and comfortable with it too – whether she was being sweet with him, comforting him, or barking orders at him. He had no profound repartee for those commands. All he could do was smile back at her and say: "Whatever you say, Helga. Whatever you say."

"Good! Now let's head for the boardwalk! We can continue this discussion over something greasy and bound to clog our arteries!"

It sounded like a plan, so off they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, Folks! The penultimate chapter is done and dusted! As ever, my eternal gratitude for your continued support. Stick around for the tenth and final chapter - I mean it this time! - in which I hopefully wrap things up to my satisfaction and yours. While I have your attention, could I perhaps persuade you into leaving at least a comment for this chapter? Your feedback is always appreciated.
> 
> Right, with that done, we go on to the notes:
> 
> My favorite Hey Arnold character to write is Phoebe because of her advanced vocabulary. No lie, that's also how I talk in real life (minus the high-pitched voice of course...).
> 
> Besides the Shortaki, I wanted to revisit the character who got this ball rolling in the first place - that would be Patty - and give her her dues. Plus another chance to explore her character a bit more. From what I saw in Helga vs Patty, she didn't come across as a bully. My take is that she only wants to be left in peace, and will get violent only if a situation warrants it. My next question was: "But what about Mary?"
> 
> Well, I figured she must have riled up Patty really badly to pay such a price, so I ran with that in this chapter.
> 
> As for Wolfgang...He exhibits slightly above-average intelligence in the series and displays some ability to think strategically. Is it a stretch to think that he'd know the OED definition of 'Catalyst'? Well, the Hey Arnold series is predicated - see how Phoebe has influenced me? - on characters' ability to surprise, so why not? And actually, his quoting the definition was based on a Super Secret Squirrel short in which a bunch of hicks consults a dictionary for the meaning of 'Quatrain'.
> 
> His surname? Since no official name was given, it's up in the air and no guess is better or worse than any other. In any case, I originally wanted to go with either Ballack or Matthaus, after two German ex-football players. Then I came across a Swedish name, Hedblom, and my mind was immediately made up.
> 
> But enough rambling. Time for the Deezer list:
> 
> Secret Garden – Bruce Springsteen  
> Can't Stop This Thing We Started – Bryan Adams  
> Invisible Touch – Genesis  
> Flames of Paradise – Jennifer Rush (with Elton John)  
> Something About You – Level 42
> 
> And that's it for this chapter. See you next time for hopefully a good sendoff. Until then, stay safe.


	10. Contingency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Hey Arnold characters belong to Craig Bartlett, and to him alone. That his characters have inspired such hubris in me that would see me attempt a fan fiction based on them, speaks volumes of my reverence of the man.

It continued on Saturday when Arnold thought he'd be the bold one after the basketball, the tête-à-tête, and the completely unhealthy meal he and Helga shared at the boardwalk district. There, Helga made good on her promise of treating him to lunch. They split a massive plate - 'tray', to be more accurate – of cheesy nachos with all the fixings. Between Helga's abnormally fast metabolism and Arnold's competitive eating nous, they made short work of the course. Then as they were walking each other home – having declared their time together a resounding success – he decided to venture further into the unknown.

"So Helga," he began uncertainly. "I had a really good time with you today."

"Yeah, it was nice," replied Helga, trying not to project too much joy over having had Arnold all to herself for the first of hopefully many protracted periods.

"Listen," Arnold continued, "I find you so fascinating in so many ways and I would like to know if we can meet again like this again."

"Oooh, that's a problem!" Helga answered in playfully pretend concern. "I have so many other suitors vying for my attention, I may have trouble finding a slot for you."

"That's OK," Arnold replied in a mock reassuring tone to counter her tone. "I'll wait if I have to."

They shared a good chuckle as they continued walking. As they walked, Helga took in her surroundings. Not so much Hillwood's architecture and its greenery, but its people. People who were going about their business, whether working, shopping, or engaging in fun activities. Whatever they were doing, they all shared one common trait.

_They don't care!_

That's what Helga realized. The fact that Helga Pataki and Arnold Shortman had somehow found a way to start a relationship meant nothing to these strangers. They knew naught of the obstacles she and he had overcome nor of those still to come. And even if they did, what detriment would come of it? _Nothing long-term, if at all_. That was her guess. And if the greater Hillwood would respond that way, what was the worst that P.S. 118 could do to them by comparison?

Those thoughts were still running through her mind when she felt the touch of his hand on hers. _Is he trying to hold my hand?_ She stopped walking, forcing Arnold to stop as well. She looked first at their joined hands, then turned to him to see his hopeful expression. _Oh my god, he is!_ She stared at him for a while so to give him a considered response.

"Wait, Arnold," she said as she slowly and gently pulled her hand free from him.

"Sorry!" Arnold blenched. "Was this too soon?"

"I'll say," Helga confirmed. "Looks like we both can't help being forward, can we?"

Arnold immediately caught her reference to the previous day when he had ( _very_ ) mildly reprimanded her forwardness for kissing him. Fortunately, she seemed to be issuing her reprimand in the same good humor as he'd issued his.

He was about to issue his explanation when Helga denied him the opportunity with: "Besides…you're right. That was too soon."

"It was?"

"Oh yeah! I can think of a much better time and place for it…"

She explained her idea to Arnold, who after hearing it was left to wonder who the bold kid between them currently was. He voiced as much with: "Are you sure about that, Helga?"

"Oh, _absolutely!_ " she confirmed. "And if anyone has a problem, I'll show them what a real problem is!"

For emphasis, she raised her clenched right fist for him to view. "Meet Old Betsy! Never once failed me in times of trouble!"

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Arnold politely countered. "In any case, I'm in!"

So with the mood not at all being adversely affected, they continued until The Sunset Arms still in good spirits. There, they exchanged reluctant, awkward, and lingering goodbyes before Helga suggested: "You realize, Arnold, that it's still rather early in the day…"

"Yeah?" he responded, eager for a favorable suggestion from her.

"…and I can think of many better things to do than go back home…"

She need have said no more!

"Give me a sec to put the ball and backpack away!" Arnold said hastily, almost tripping over his words. He made good on those words and was back at the front stoop within a minute. "Hey Helga?" he began. "What say we head for the park close by? There's this nice bench in the shade, near this ice-cream vendor…"

"If it's your treat then it's a deal, Footballhead!"

"Of course!" he replied as he started walking. He was at the bottom of the stoop when he heard her – "Heads up, Footballhead!" – and felt her. She came down on his back for a glomp of the ultimate order, having launched herself from one of the higher steps. The sudden movement almost caused the footballhead to topple over with his fair maiden. _Almost_ , as he retained sufficient presence of mind to catch himself while securing Helga.

And while he was inwardly reeling from that brief experience, he heard Helga comment: " _Ha!_ Never doubted you for a moment!"

Arnold was too taken in by Helga's audacity to be anything but admiring of her. Enough to thank her for wanting to continue their time together.

"Admit it!" – her playfulness was obvious in her voice – "You were kinda disappointed that you didn't get to hold my hand today. _Right?_ "

Arnold's voice suggested composure regained as he replied: "Well, _kinda_ …"

"Looks like this will have to do for now," she teased as she continued hugging him. She broke from the hug to issue an order. "Now _onward!_ " she archly proclaimed as she pointed a finger forward.

As Arnold piggybacked her to their new destination, he couldn't help but be reminded of her daintiness and how he'd love to continue experiencing it up close and personal like this. Helga, for all the joy she was experiencing with Arnold, remained focused on the Hillwood citizens on the street going about their business, paying the young blonde couple little heed – if indeed any.

She remained encouraged by what she saw: _Nah, things will be just fine._

* * *

The time was Monday morning, the place P.S. 118. Arnold and Helga were standing outside the building, near the main entrance. The bell was minutes from ringing and most of the other students had already assembled inside.

"So…you ready to do this?" asked Arnold.

They'd met for the first time since that Saturday. Sunday had been spent facing their respective best friend's arduous debriefing. In the end, both Phoebe and Gerald were satisfied with the report each had received. Gerald in particular was most impressed with what Arnold had told him, citing surprise – and joy – that the two blondes hadn't killed each other.

Meanwhile, back in the here and now…

"Footballhead, we _have_ to do this. We're making a _statement!_ "

"And what exactly would that statement be?" Arnold queried.

"I told you on Saturday!" Helga almost scolded. "That you and I – after a brief, whirlwind courtship – are an item now and if anyone has a problem with it, _tough!_ If a whole city can treat us being together like it's not an extinction-level event, then why can't a small school within said city?"

"Yeah, I knew that," confessed Arnold. "I just wanted to hear you say it again."

His small confession deflated Helga's annoyance, replacing it with fluster as she followed up with: "Oh shut up and take my hand, you lovestruck fool you!"

She grinned again as she offered her hand to him, which he eagerly accepted. And so they walked into the building.

**xxXXXxx**

A hypothetical passer-by within earshot might have been tempted to follow up on the planned activity of the two young blondes. And if said hypothetical passer-by was of truly keen, borderline supernatural hearing, then they'd be in for something of a treat.

They'd note a general lack of response as the two disappeared into the building, with maybe a conversation here and there coming to an abrupt halt. Nothing earth-shattering, until the first prominent voice – that of a female – would be heard.

"Oh my gawd! _They're holding hands! They're actually holding h—_ "

The voice would stop, replaced by the sound of its owner collapsing. But the observer need not have feared, for the speaker was not alone.

"Rhonda? _Rhonda?_ " another female voice would be heard chiming in. "Oh my gawd!" she'd proclaim. "Rhonda's fainted! Someone get Nurse Shelly!"

"Looks like she needs mouth-to-mouth!" – A male voice this time, sounding unhealthily enthusiastic – "Fear not, Rhonda, for Curly is on the job!"

The observer would then hear the still-unknown female voice take on sharp disapproval as she issued: "Curly, _no!_ Don't even _think_ about it! _DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT—_ "

" _YAAIIIEEE!_ "

And as curious as the observer may have been about how the matter of Curly, Rhonda and other would play out, their attention would now be diverted to the source of a shrill, high-pitched scream. Fortunately, someone would be close by there as well to query the matter.

"Hey Peapod! Don't _do_ that! You almost scared me to death, man!"

"Terribly sorry, Park," the now low-pitched boy – really? – designated Peapod would answer, having regained his composure. "I just saw Arnold and Helga hand-in-hand, and it was… _terribly_ unsettling. Not to mention… _unusual_."

"Oh come off it, Peapod!" the other boy – definitely a boy – named Park would counter. That's hardly surprising! You saw my statistical models about these two getting together. It was _inevitable!_ "

"Well, _naturally_ I assumed that your methods were flawed," – Peapod was really channeling his inner Shatner – " _particularly_ in the distribution model of—"

_Ugh! Statistical analysis! Time to move along!_ The observer would decide that they'd allocated enough time with these two and that now would be a good time to return to Curly and company. To whom they'd return to hear the sound of frantic running, of a pursuit in progress, together with:

"Get back here, you little letch!" – Rhonda's voice, seething with rage – "Get back here so I can show you a _real_ medical emergency!"

"But Rhonda!" – Curly's voice, clearly fearing for its owner's life – "It _worked_! You're back on your feet!"

"No thanks to you, you little worm!"

"Rhonda, _no!_ " – the unknown girl companion – "And put down that fire extinguisher! We need to get you to Nurse Shelly first!"

"Can't _hear_ you, Nadine!"

_Ah, so her name is Nadine._ This development was becoming most interesting. Unfortunately, the observer would be distracted once again. The pursuit would pass the sounds of an officious man talking feverishly, presumably into a phone as no other presence in his office (?) was discernible. So only his side of the conversation was audible.

"No, I'm not kidding!"

"Yes, I'm deadly serious!"

"As I said before, I've had five kids fall really badly over three days last week!"

"No, it wasn't a coincidence!"

"Yes, Superintendent! They all fell! Either on school premises or out on the sidewalks!"

"Damn right I want to book an expert to give a presentation on how to walk properly! What's so funny? Dammit, stop laughing! This is a _serious_ matter! What if the next one to fall at school decides to file a lawsuit? We have to cover our asses!"

"Oh, not laughing _now_ , are you? I _told_ you this is serious!"

" _Thank you_ , Superintendent, for your understanding."

"Yes, I think telling the mayor to fix the sidewalks will help too. Fewer lawsuits, hopefully a bigger budget for the schools."

_Wow! Wonder how this development came about! This must be one crazy school. In any case, this one's run its course too. Time to return to Rhonda and friends._ Another brief scan would momentarily pick up the following dialogue in progress.

"OK, Nadine," – Rhonda sounding out of breath – " _Now_ you can call Nurse Shelly."

"I'm not so sure, Rhonda," Nadine, equally as out of breath but sounding infinitely more concerned – "I think he needs an ambulance."

"Don't worry, he'll be fine."

"No he won't! You just dented a fire extinguisher over his skull!"

"That's why he'll be fine. I only got him on the head, so what's the problem?"

At which point, the observer would decide that entertaining their curiosity any further was not worth the risk of becoming an accessory to a possible crime. They would then make a beeline for wherever they happened to be heading. And if they had nowhere else to be, they'd be sure to rectify the matter post-haste. _This school's way too crazy for its own good!_

**xxXXXxx**

A pity that the observer could only hear any exchanges and not see them. They'd have missed the mutual assuredness with which Arnold and Helga were walking hand-in-hand, not letting any reactions thereto affect them. Rhonda's fainting was cause for mild amusement in Helga, while Peapod had surprised all around him with his two-octave increase in pitch. But the big surprise to the two young blondes was how easy it was. And if it was leaving any amount of discord in its wake, so what? They wanted each other, they _had_ each other, end of story. Their peers would just have to accept the new reality.

In retrospect, it should have been obvious why this walk was as easy for them as it was. The past few days had seen them overcome their harshest critics: themselves. But that was only to be the first of who knew how many challenges awaiting them, both as individuals and as a couple. Nobody could say what was to follow, least of all them. Arnold, for instance, wasn't yet fully aware of Helga's family situation and its deep-rooted effects on her. Helga on the other hand was to learn so much more of how affected Arnold was by his missing parents.

One certainty remained as they turned into their homeroom: come what may, they'd be in good hands.

**EPILOGUE**

Three months later and the world is no better or worse off for Arnold and Helga being together. But that's fine by **Gerald** , who at least is grateful that there's still a world in the first place. Three months later and he's now forced to admit that he was wrong about Arnold and Helga. Not that he minds since he's been able to draw inspiration from how those two have made matters work and apply it to his existing relationship with **Phoebe**. Over time Phoebe has noted how much more tenderly and affectionately he's been holding her, not to mention how he's been engaging with her more meaningfully. But it hasn't been one-way traffic with them. Phoebe too has been taking notes after studying her best friend's conduct, then applying them to bolster her relationship with Gerald, at least on a physical level. A stolen kiss here, a sly peck on the cheek there, exchanging regular sweet nothings, all to a most appreciative Gerald who now more than ever looks forward to school in the morning.

**Wolfgang** hasn't changed much. His relationship with Arnold remains as antagonistic as ever, but at least he heeded **Patty's** warning not to go after the footballhead following the fight in the alley. Nowadays his urges for payback are confined to the football and baseball fields where anything is fair game. And though his tackles and checks on Arnold have become harder, Wolfgang is constantly reminded that the little runt can give as good as he takes. Wolfgang fouls Arnold in football, Arnold beans him in baseball: their version of give and take. Unfortunately for Wolfgang, he can no longer depend on **Edmund's** support against Arnold as heavily as before. As it happens, Edmund – after making a full recovery from Arnold's attack – has become much more circumspect in his dealings with the smaller boy. Off the field and away from Arnold…well, there appear to have been some changes there too for Wolfgang. He has been observed visiting the school library a lot more frequently and the observers have noted how those visits always occur when Patty happens to be on duty. People are left to draw their own conclusions therefrom, based mainly on how much more familiar Wolfgang and Patty seem to have become over time. There have also been a few unconfirmed sightings of the two of them together at the movies and even at the occasional matinee dance. ' _Unconfirmed_ ' being the operative word because nobody wants to be known as the one who broke that particular story for fear of any reprisals.

As for **Arnold and Helga**. One might ask if the three months have been nothing but love and understanding as they pave their way to a lifetime of romantic bliss.

_Hell no!_

OK, it may not be a happily ever after (yet…), but neither is their relationship a toxic exercise in futility. If nothing else, it's been a learning curve. New understandings had to be reached, new compromises made: all in all, a new normal. New people with whom to be accustomed. It's been easier for Helga to warm up to Arnold's family than vice versa, _much_ easier. Helga quickly discovered that she'd always have a place at The Sunset Arms and that any objections thereto were to be forwarded to Gertie Shortman. Thus far, there haven't been any.

Meanwhile, over at the Patakis…

Actually, it's not going as badly as expected. The young couple has found an unlikely ally in Miriam, who for all her faults remembers Arnold as the " _sweet young man looking out for my daughter!_ "

Apparently, she still poignantly recalls the time Arnold came knocking to enquire about Helga's wellbeing. That one act has earned him many a brownie point from the matriarch, as well as a willingness from her to bat for him against Bob. At least now Arnold isn't too afraid to visit Helga at her home anymore.

Arnold and Helga's relationship has its ups and downs. The downs comprising mostly differences in opinion and philosophy, general moodiness, and the resulting arguments. And yet…these occasional spats seem to have been a blessing in disguise. If Arnold is proven to be in the wrong – _it's been known to happen_ – he'll be the first to apologize for his misdeed. Helga, however, has never been one to vocalize her contrition. Thus, her apologies will never be spoken. Instead, Arnold will find a beautifully worded note in his locker conveying his girlfriend's sincerest penitence.

Arnold considers these notes as more than merely an act of a guilty conscience. He has conveyed to Helga how they offer an insight into the beautiful heart and soul that dwells inside her. In fact, he considers it an honor that she trusts him enough to show him this side of her. Since then, he has also been on the receiving end of the occasional, eloquently expressed love note from her. And not just in his locker; he's come home from school more than once to find a (sometimes perfumed) note nestled on his pillow. The ones at home tend to be the source of much reddening of his cheeks due to their bolder nature.

So yes, a relationship with Helga.

It's been a rollercoaster so far, with the good times far outnumbering the bad. Will their futures be any better for it? Will future hurts be lessened by them being together? Will their intertwined course run smoothly?

Who knows? All they can do is give it their best shot. And from each other and themselves, that's all they ask.

_**THE END** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we are done! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the story is done! Thank you, one and all, for your continued support, your comments, and your kudos. Most of all, your enjoyment. To all of you, you rock! You are the reason I sweat the smallest details, why I reread previous chapters to make sure the story flows consistently, making sure the story goes out as the best version of itself that it can be. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> Onward now to the notes.
> 
> Despite most of my Hey Arnold stories not being Shortaki, I do wholeheartedly embrace them as the OTP. In fact, I've always wanted to do a proper Shortaki tale but I just couldn't think of a hook for such a tale. And no, 'Neurotransmissions...' doesn't count, and here's why. 'Neurotransmissions...' was an exercise in which I aimed to conceive, write, edit, and publish a story all within one day. I succeeded in case anyone is curious.
> 
> Anyway, back to 'A Language...'. My hook for this one may have been a bit meta. I considered Season 3 of the show, which ran during 1998 and 1999. That season also coincided with the start of a little-known Nickelodeon juggernaut called 'Spongebob Squarepants'. Twenty-two years later and there's this South African fanfic writer pondering. He's pondering what would happen if the Nick execs back then were to approach Craig Bartlett and his team to tell them they'll be placing all their bets on the sponge and that Season 3 of Hey Arnold will be the last. That would place them in a bit of a predicament. I'd imagine they'd have received many letters and emails asking when Arnold and Helga would become a couple. Who knows, maybe some of you sent them such letters and emails. Nevermind Arnold's parents, they'd feel obligated to wrap up at least this particular storyline and leave the fans with no doubt that things will be fine between them (or so I am wont to believe...). I reckoned then that 'Helga vs Patty' would be the best starting point, hence this tale.
> 
> My inspirations for this story were diverse. Most notably, I channeled pro wrestling, Jackie Chan movies (specifically, that final fight in 'Who Am I?'), and an ITV series called Liar. And I'm not ashamed to admit that one line of dialogue in a chapter was lifted verbatim from an anime that I enjoyed immensely, Lovely Complex. Hey, credit to wherever it is due. Music also plays a major influence when I write as you'll note by the Deezer list in each chapter. But the musical inspiration for this entire story really comes down to only two songs. For the first half where Arnold and Helga fumble for common ground, the go-to song was 'Favourite Scar' by Leona Lewis, while for the (re)build it was 'Advice For The Young At Heart' by Tears For Fears.
> 
> That's it for the notes then; now for this chapter's Deezer list:
> 
> The Things We Do For Love – 10cc  
> Old Pen – Cody Francis  
> Here We Are – Gloria Estefan  
> Happily Ever After – He Is We  
> A Dream Worth Keeping – Sheena Easton  
> Burn Out – Sipho "Hotstix" Mabuse  
> Just Like Heaven – The Cure
> 
> And with that, the final curtain! Thank you for coming. It has been a pleasure (hopefully) entertaining you or providing you with some escapism, especially in these trying times when we can really use some. I trust you can see yourselves out and I hope to see you all soon. Once for with feeling: Thank you and stay safe!

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the first chapter done. If you've made it this far, then thank you ever so much for honoring me with your support. Not much in the way of author's notes, you may be glad to read. However, I would like to know what kind of start I'm off to and would appreciate any feedback.
> 
> So here's' this chapter's Deezer list:
> 
> Carpet Crawlers - Genesis  
> This Cowboy Song - Sting  
> Get Outta Town - The Gone Jackals
> 
> And thus endeth the chapter. See you next time.


End file.
